


in a silver garden with you

by Platinumroyal



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-23 17:27:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 27,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13792569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Platinumroyal/pseuds/Platinumroyal
Summary: In days gone by, Mika recalls lying in the flowers together, the warm summertime air coaxing them into sleep, until stars dotted the night sky. The days seemed endless then, each one bleeding into the next, drawn out by late sunsets and early dawns. Memories are memories, though, and the strike of his blade against armor and flesh keeps pushing him forward. He thinks, time and time again, sleeping alone in his tent, about those fleeting months, and what it'd be like to meet again.(a fire emblem echoes: shadows of valentia au)





	1. prologue - part 1

When dawn breaks on Ram Village, all is quiet. Livestock have yet to be awoken by their caretakers; children are still sleeping off their exhaustion from the previous day’s work; any person that is awake treads carefully to preserve the blanket of silence. It is as if a conductor has raised their baton above the orchestra, waiting for the exact moment to let the bustle of village life resound. But for now, the anticipation still lingers.

            The village is not exceptionally big, though it is the last major bastion at the Southwestern tip of Zofia. Merchants visit twice a month, typically, and trade the villagers commodities that they cannot fashion themselves; otherwise, the local agriculture is enough to sustain them. It is the sort of place where children are born, raised, and expected to stay for the majority of their lives. There is no real reason to venture out and explore life beyond the town, not with the bandits lording over the surrounding forests and especially not with the way the current king has been running things. Merchants bring with them whispers of the latent corruption in their country, and more recently the murders of their king’s only offspring. Parents fear for the safety of their children, and they keep them within the wooden barricades and stone walls encircling their territory.

      Within one of the many small cottages in the village—this cottage is slightly larger than the rest, though, despite containing only two inhabitants—a man sits at his desk. Resting near his right hand is a half-empty inkwell and a spare quill, along with several pieces of parchment, and by his left is a flickering candle, almost expired. The man frowns at his source of light, but after a cursory glance out of the window near his bed, he decides to leave it be and resolves to retrieve a fresh one that evening. It is early still, and even though his grandson needs to be awake soon for his training, the man settles back into his letter, nearly complete.

 

            _Trust me—the boy will be safe here. Not one of his men will come looking in a backwoods village such as this one. There have been local bandits roaming the outskirts for years now, and not a single soldier has graced us with their presence. Even so, in the event that someone_ does _come looking for the boy, I will be here to put an end to their search, and to safely escort him to the priory. I believe that you, of all who know of me, understand this the most._

_We will meet at the inn you are staying in in a fortnight from the date of this letter. I pray for your safety, in the meantime._

_May our Mother be with you,_

_Mycen_

            The man sets down his quill, and gazes out the window as the ink begins to dry. The morning sky is dyed in rich pinks and deep purples, tinged with stripes of light blue and thin, spindly clouds. He sighs, recalling the old proverb that has been passed around the coast of Zofia for decades ( _red sky at morning, sailors take warning)_ and hopes that this is not an omen for what is to come. He knows that a storm is to arrive; he does not know how soon. He folds his letter in half, slides it into a simple envelope, and uses the remaining wax in the basin of the candle to press it closed. There is a merchant departing from the village at noontime who can bring it three villages north, with a simple request of _bring this to a man named Nomah_.

            Mycen rises from his chair, and begins his day.

* * *

 

            Mika likes living in the village, if for no other reason because it is the only place he knows. While some kids his age find the daily routine to be boring, and they long for the thrill of adventure outside the constraints their parents have set for them, Mika enjoys the comfort of knowing what’s ahead of him. Every morning, Grandpapa wakes him up and has him tend to their little flock of sheep that they keep on the side of the house. His favorite is Molly, a young sheep that Grandpapa let him name himself, whom he loves very much. By the time he is finished, Grandpapa has made him breakfast (typically eggs, an orange, a slice of bread, and some bacon if he’s lucky) and they talk as they eat. His friends tell him that he is no fair for having such a close relationship with his Grandpapa, when their parents don’t tell them anything and shoo them out of the house at the earliest convenience. Mika wants to tell them that they are lucky to be with their parents in the first place, since he doesn’t even remember what his look like, but he always thinks about how great Grandpapa is and so he doesn’t mention it. After breakfast, Grandpapa will tell him the plans for the day: they rotate between studying, training, and off days, where Mika gets to play with his friends.

            Today is one of those off days, and Mika is very excited. He and his friends are continuing their game of Knights and Bandits today, and they are very close to rescuing the captive princess (played by Arashi’s pet cat, Meowsy) from the Bandits’ hideout (some extra wooden crates that they arranged to look like a house). After this game is over, it will finally be Mika’s turn to come up with a new game, and he is more than ready to share his planned sequel, where the Knights and Bandits come together to take down a big, scary dragon. Mika shifts in his chair at the kitchen table, kicking his feet back-and-forth with a warm smile on his face. Only a few more bites of eggs to go and then he’ll be able to leave.

            “Mika,” Grandpapa starts, suddenly, “I need to talk to you about something.”

            The smile slides off of Mika’s face, and worry sets in. Grandpapa only uses this tone of voice when he is talking about something very serious, that Mika must pay attention to. The last time that Grandpapa spoke to him like this was after a few bandits had ransacked the town’s food supply, and they had to ration for three weeks until the next round of merchants came. Grandpapa had told him how dangerous the bandits were, and how he shouldn’t take food for granted. That was nearly a year ago, and nothing bad has really happened since. Did he do something bad? Did bandits strike again? What if something bad was happening to Grandpapa? Mika swallows the piece of egg in his mouth, and it does not go down easy.

            “Yes, Grandpapa?” Mika averts his eyes and stares down at his remaining breakfast, appetite gone, hoping that his nervousness isn’t showing on his face. Grandpapa only sighs.

            “We are going to have someone staying with us, for a while,” Grandpapa says. “I will be leaving today in order to collect them, so you are going to stay with your friend Arashi for a few days. I have already made arrangements with their family, so do not worry over intruding.”

            Mika looks up, fascinated. “Here? With us? But why?” Oh no, what if they don’t like him and then he’ll have to sneak around the house just to avoid them and then he’ll fall behind in his studies and then Grandpapa will favor them and then kick him out and he’ll have nowhere to go and—

            “It is quite complicated. We are taking in someone who has nowhere else to go; you can think of it like that,” Grandpapa stands up from his chair, and begins to clear the table. “He is a boy around your age, so I hope that you will introduce him to your friends.”

            A boy, around his age? Then, something must have happened to his family, Mika figures, if he needs a place to stay. He feels badly for assuming the worst, and shrinks back into his seat as Grandpapa takes his plate.

            “I can do that,” Mika says, after a slight pause. It is the right thing to do, after all. He still is a bit worried, but if Grandpapa is okay with this person living with them, then he can be too. Grandpapa smiles at him, and Mika slides out of his chair. He scurries over to where Grandpapa is cleaning their plates, and wraps his arms all the way around his waist, nuzzling his head in.

            “Be safe, Grandpapa,” Mika’s voice is slightly muffled, but he knows he is heard because Grandpapa turns around and kneels down for a hug. “I’ll miss you.”

            “It’s only for a few days, but I’ll miss you too,” Grandpapa says softly, then returns to his full height and strokes his hand through Mika’s messy, dark hair. “Now go out and play, boy.”

            Mika nods eagerly, and rushes to the door. Everything is going to be fine. Grandpapa is the strongest man he knows, so even if he gets stopped by bandits—

            He shakes his head, trying to clear it of any bad thoughts, and opens their kitchen door.

 

* * *

 

            “Okay, so who are we gonna send in to distract the bandits?”

            “Well, definitely not _me._ I’m the one leading this whole thing, so I don’t wanna be the one who misses out on rescuing the princess!”

            “Yeah, but we need someone strong to keep ‘em busy! You’re the only one who can do it!”

            “Guys, the princess is about to rescue herself if we don’t get in there _now_. Look, she’s sneaking out from the back!”

            “I can do it? I don’t mind bein’ the decon.”

            “Mika, it’s ‘decoy’, not ‘decon’. You’re thinkin’ of ‘recon’.”

            “Oh, sorry. I can still do it, though!”

            Arashi takes his gaze off of the bandit camp, and turns to look at his motley crew of knights. “You know what? Mika, you never get to be the hero. Ken, you go distract the bandits while we save the princess.”

            “No fair! You can’t make me do anything!” Ken, one of the boys who only plays with them sometimes, is not pleased. “That’s it! I’m tired of Arashi being the leader—”

            “That’s _Sir_ Arashi, to you,”

            “Okay, _Sir Arashi_ , I’m joining the bandits! Then I can do whatever I want!” Ken storms out of their cover (behind a few barrels) and marches over to the bandit camp, stationing himself next to the two boys they’re supposed to be confronting. Mika frowns. He didn’t want to start any trouble, especially since he might have to change his plans for the sequel game. Arashi pouts.

            “I’m just playing the head knight. Why doesn’t he get it?” Arashi gripes, folding his arms over his chest. “If he didn’t want me to be the leader, then he should’ve just let me be the princess, like I wanted to be in the first place! Right, guys?”

            Mika shrugs. Mao, who is sitting crosslegged on the ground next to him, sighs.

            “Now what are we supposed to do? Our plan was only gonna work if we had four people,” Mao says. “I kinda want to just move on to the next game, already.”

            Mika, desperate to save his grand storyline (and also to not work up Arashi further), jumps in. “Well, we hafta think of something. We can’t just let them win!” He pauses for a moment, trying to think of _anything_ that they could do, when it’s three-on-three and not the four-on-two they planned for. “Oh! I got it.”

            Arashi and Mao look up at him, both apparently lost in their own thoughts. “What is it, Mika?” Arashi asks, huddling closer to him.

            Mika takes a deep breath, then starts quietly, lest Ken decide to come back and spy on them. “Well, Arashi wanted to play the princess, right? So how ‘bout we make Arashi the princess after all. Mao can talk to the guards while me and Arashi grab the princess. I’ll run away with her, and Arashi can stay in the camp. Once they figure out the princess’s gone, you guys can ambush them!” Mika smiles, proud of his strategy. Arashi looks surprised at Mika’s sudden bout of leadership, but then grabs his hands.

            “Mika, you’re so smart! Let’s do it! They’ll never see it coming!” Arashi beams, and then faces Mao. “What do you think, Mao?”

            “If it works, it’ll be really cool,” Mao grins, motivation returning now that they have a plan. “Okay, on my count of three…”

            They split off from behind their cover, Mika and Arashi heading to the right while Mao strides to the left. The bandits immediately spy Mao, and ready their swords (sticks). Arashi giggles quietly, just loud enough for Mika to hear, and they continue to sneak around to the back of the camp. Unfortunately, Ken was smart enough to move around to the back, anticipating their arrival. He looks fairly annoyed, and Mika tenses. Arashi, unfazed, walks right up to him.

            “We’re here to save the princess, you jerk! So, move outta the way!” Arashi proclaims, and Mika wishes that one day he’ll be as brave and cool as Arashi. At the moment, Mika is pretty good at being sneaky and quiet, so he decides to take advantage of that instead. Ken is so focused on arguing with Arashi that he fails to notice Mika reaching into the makeshift cage of crates and pulling out Meowsy. He hears Mao yell from the opposite side of the camp, but pays it no mind, and tucks Meowsy into the crook of his arm and takes off. Ken shouts at him to stop, which catches the attention of the other boys, who collectively disregard Mao and instead chase after Mika. Arashi, ever an opportunist, tackles Ken to the ground before he even starts to run.

            “We did it! We got the princess!” Arashi laughs. “We won, so you can stop running, you know!”

            Mika turns around, and Meowsy escapes his grasp. It doesn’t matter though, as the other boys stopped their chase as soon as Arashi declared the knights the winners. He sees Ken shake Arashi off, still frustrated, and watches him grab the other two boys and walk away. There is a possibility that Knights and Bandits is over, now that Ken and his friends don’t want to play anymore, but Mika is satisfied for now. Ken and his friends are not the only other kids in the village, after all, and it’s not too hard to convince the others to join in on their games. He skips back to Mao and Arashi, grinning widely.

            “Arashi, Mika, it’s time to come in!” Arashi’s mother calls from the kitchen window of the Narukami residence, a few houses away, and Mika realizes that it’s already evening. He stares down at his shadow as it stretches out in front of him, and the worries that he managed to suppress for the day start to churn his stomach. Grandpapa must have left already, not wanting to travel too far at night, and he didn’t even notice. Arashi waves goodbye to Mao for the both of them, since Mika is lost in his thoughts, and drags him by the hand inside.

            Arashi’s house isn’t especially big, being slightly smaller than Mika’s own home, even though it holds twice as many people. Mika has always wondered why Arashi’s house is smaller than his; he and Grandpapa are only two people, and somehow, they ended up with more living space. Even so, this house his like a second home to Mika, with the amount of times he has stayed overnight. At the moment, however, Mika just wants to be home.

            Dinner passes quietly, since Arashi’s father and older brother are still out working in the family blacksmith. Mika’s potatoes taste much more like dirt than they do potatoes, feeling all gritty in his mouth, and not because of Arashi’s mother’s cooking. Grandpapa may be strong and brave, but he is still an old man, and Mika cannot help his own anxiety. Mrs. Narukami makes small talk, but no real conversation takes hold. Arashi can sense that something is wrong with Mika; he usually responds more to his mother’s questions, and so once they finish their meal and clean up, Arashi pulls Mika into his room and sits him down on the bed.

            “What’s going on, Mika? I’m your best friend, so you should tell me,” Arashi asserts, dropping on the bed next to him. “You’re never this quiet.”

            Mika presses his lips together, to keep from biting them, but that just makes things worse. His frown begins to waver, and he curls into himself. Arashi gently rubs his back, trying to coax _anything_ out of Mika, and that does it. Tears leak from the corners of his eyes, and he bites back the sob that is trying to force its way out of him. Arashi moves hand to Mika’s shoulder, pulling him into a hug, and continues to comfort him. Any of the pride that Mika had felt earlier has been wrung out of him, replaced with the worry that has been building up inside of him since that morning.

            “Grandpapa says that some boy is coming to live with us,” Mika starts, and a sob hiccups out of him. “He went to go get him today and I don’t want someone else to live with us! It’s always been me and Grandpapa forever and I don’t know what’s going to happen and Grandpapa might not ever even come home if bandits get him and then I’ll be all alone and I’m _scared_!”

            Arashi frowns, but keeps stroking Mika’s back. “Maybe he’ll be nice?” he offers, trying to think of what to say that would get Mika to stop crying. “Your Grandfather is a smart man! He wouldn’t just take in anybody, now would he?”

            Mika hiccups again, and rubs his eyes. “No,” he admits. “I guess not…”

            “And no bandits are going to get your Grandfather, that’s for sure,” Arashi waits for Mika to nod in response, and then continues. “He’s the coolest man in the whole village! You know how strong he is. If I were a bandit, I’d run away just from seeing him!”

            “Yeah, I know.”

            “Then, everything will be fine! He loves you, so he wouldn’t do anything to make you scared, right?” Arashi places both of his hands on Mika’s shoulders, turning him to look square in his eyes. “And if this kid thinks he can be mean to you, he has another thing coming. You just tell me when, and I’ll teach him a lesson!”

            “Y’can’t do that, Arashi,” Mika sniffles, his tears slowing down. “You’ll get in trouble if y’hit someone. But, thanks. Sorry for bein’ such a crybaby,”

            “You’re not a crybaby, Mika, you can just be a scaredy-cat sometimes,” Arashi squeezes him once more. “Let’s go to bed early. You need some sleep, Mika.”

            Mika wipes his eyes once more as Arashi slides out of bed to grab some nightclothes. He pulls open the bottom drawer of his dresser, sifts through it for a second, and pulls out a grey nightshirt, about three sizes too big for Mika. It’s one of his brother’s old shirts, Mika figures, since Arashi has plenty of hand-me-downs from his older brother. Arashi tosses the shirt to Mika, but it ends up on hitting him in the face before he can catch it. Mika yelps, and Arashi giggles before pulling off his own clothes and sliding on another oversized shirt.

            “I’m gonna go tell Mama that we’re going to bed. Wait here!” Arashi jumps up, and bounds out of the bedroom. Mika pulls the nightshirt over his head, and is thankful that it’s summertime, since the shirt definitely wouldn’t keep him warm if it were December right now. He drops his dayclothes in a pile next to Arashi’s bed, right on top of where Arashi has left his own. He forgot to grab anything from his house, so he supposes that Arashi will just lend him some clothes for the next few days. Mika is thinner and smaller than Arashi, but they’ve done it before, so it’ll work out fine. Mika slips under the thin blanket covering the bed, and shimmies over until his back is pressed up against the wall, intending to leave as much room as possible for his friend.

            Arashi dashes back into the room, followed by a shout of _no running in the house, honey!_ from Arashi’s mother. “Isn’t it warm in here?” he says, more of a statement than a question, and unlatches his window to let in the breeze. He then turns back around to close the door.

            “Can you leave the door open a little?” Mika flushes, a bit embarrassed. “It’s kinda dark in here, y’know…”

            Arashi grins to himself. _Mika really is a scaredy-cat, huh?_ “Okay! Sorry, I forgot. It’s been awhile since you’ve stayed over!”

            He leaves the door ajar slightly, enough for the candlelight from the hall to leak into the room. His father and brother must have just arrived home, since he can hear the sounds of chairs scraping on wood from the kitchen. Arashi would rather close the door entirely, as he has trouble sleeping with noise, but Mika’s more important right now. He pads over to the bed, and flops down on top of the blanket rather than under it.

            “You’re gonna get sick, Arashi,” Mika whispers, and draws the covers over his ears, his mismatched eyes blinking in the darkness. “Since the window’s open, an’ all.”

            “No, I won’t,” Arashi turns over to face Mika, or at least the sliver of Mika poking out from the blanket. “Don’t worry about me and go to sleep. You look really tired.”

            “G’night, Arashi,” he murmurs, and then adds, “Thank you.”

            Arashi grins, and presses his face into the pillow they’re sharing. “Goodnight, Mika.”

            Mika squeezes his eyes shut, determined to fall asleep as quickly as possible. The sooner tomorrow comes, the sooner Grandpapa will be home and safe and not captured by bandits. He turns over to face the wall, rests in that spot for a few minutes, before he turns back over to face Arashi again. Some time must have passed by now, since Arashi is already sound asleep, and Mika wishes that he was that good at falling asleep quickly. Whenever Mika has had trouble sleeping at home, he would sneak out of bed and check to see if Grandpapa was awake and if they could talk. One of the things Mika loved most about Grandpapa was that he would take Mika’s worries seriously, and would stop whatever he was doing to comfort him. If he wasn’t, though, then Mika would creep into the kitchen, drag a stool over to the pantry, and take the housekey from the top shelf. He would then slink out the front door, being as quiet as possible, and would go out to visit the sheep. He liked hugging Molly when he couldn’t sleep, as her coat was fluffy and warm and she would nuzzle into him, seemingly knowing his troubles. Mika seriously considers the idea of sneaking out of Arashi’s window to go and see Molly, but Arashi would definitely wake up if he tried to move; not to mention that the rest of Arashi’s family is up still, and they would see him out of the kitchen window no matter which way he went. He’s better off just staying in bed, then—

            A weight drops down onto his back, and Mika nearly jumps out of his skin. His heart is races, the noise thudding in his ears. What is that? Had someone broken into Arashi’s house? The weight moves off his back, slightly vibrating, and settles in between him and Arashi. Mika cracks his eyes open, still tense.

            _Thank the Mother_ , Mika feels all the tension leave his body at once, his muscles relaxing. _It’s just Meowsy_. His heart hasn’t completely calmed down yet, but he reaches his hand out from under the blanket and pets her striped head. Meowsy purrs louder, butting her head against Mika’s palm, and then rolls over onto her back. Mika strokes her belly, relishing the feeling of soft fur under his fingers.

            “Thank you, Meowsy,” he whispers, and feels his eyes flutter close.

* * *

 

            Munetoki wants to go home.

            Rather, he wants a home to go back to. The priest he is staying with, an aging man called Nomah, is not bad company by any means. But he is nothing compared to Munetoki’s older siblings—

            Munetoki swallows hard. They…they must be out there, somewhere. He refuses to believe that he is the sole survivor of the fire at the villa, despite what he has been told. When that knight had come to rescue him, he had said there was no hope for Munetoki’s older sister, and that they needed to flee immediately from the blaze. Of course, he was not content with that in the slightest, but he is only eight years old and has been sheltered in the villa for quite some time, and the knight was much stronger than him. Munetoki feels the heat crawl up his skin, and tries very hard to slow his breathing. He does not want to trouble the priest with another fainting spell.

            Nomah looks up from the tome he is reading, catching Munetoki’s labored breathing. He sits down gently on the bed next to him, careful not to make any sudden movements as Munetoki is still panicked. It is only when Nomah takes his hands into his own that Munetoki realizes he is shaking.

            “Deep breaths, child,” Nomah begins, running his fingers delicately over Munetoki’s small hands. “Here, breathe with me.”

            Nomah takes a deep, audible breath, and Munetoki tries to match him. His lungs are smaller, and he is on the verge of hyperventilating, so Munetoki must exhale much quicker than the priest. His breath comes out shakily, but is already beginning to settle. He still feels too hot.

            They sit side-by-side for a few minutes, waiting for Munetoki’s breathing to even out, and Nomah lets go of his hands. He reaches into his robes, pulls out a stark white handkerchief, and presses it lightly at the corners of Munetoki’s eyes. Nomah then rises, gliding over to the small washbasin sitting on a table next to the bed, and completely submerges the cloth. He rings it out once, twice, then pats Munetoki’s face down with it. The coolness is comforting, and Munetoki is eternally grateful that the priest is tolerating his behavior.

            A knock comes at the door, four quick strikes to the sturdy wood. Munetoki startles, still on edge, and he shrinks into the corner of the bed. Nomah has told him that they are in hiding, for now, and as such they need to be careful. There is a great possibility that whoever is standing on the other side of the door has come to find him, and drag him to Zofia Castle. Or worse. Munetoki does not want to dwell on what the other option might bring, especially considering that the villa fire was not accidental. He looks to Nomah for some sort of direction, but the man does not seem to have his attention. Munetoki grabs at the thin blanket covering the bed, still fearful. _You are a prince,_ he scolds himself, _you should be acting more nobly than this, surely._

            Nomah walks to the door, seemingly unfazed, and peers through the peephole in the wood. Noting his lack of apprehension, Munetoki sits up a bit straighter on the bed. Nomah swings the door open, and there stands the knight who rescued him from the villa, three weeks ago. The man walks in, and Nomah shuts the door behind him.

            “Mycen,” Nomah grabs the man’s hand and shakes it heartily. “Thank the Mother that you made it hear safely.”

            Mycen returns the gesture, and then turns his focus towards Munetoki. “Your Highness. I pray you have been holding up.”

            Munetoki nods. No one has come to find them yet, thankfully, so the only real hardship has been bearing the weight of his own mind. Mycen does not push him to answer verbally, and instead sits down in the desk chair of the small room. He sighs, then addresses Nomah.

            “Everything is ready. I suggest we leave early tomorrow morning, just to avoid any threat of ruffians along the way,” Mycen says quietly, as the walls in the inn are not very thick. “We should make it to Ram before nightfall, if we hurry.”

            “Should we not take more caution? Not many riders travel between the villages, nowadays,” Nomah frowns. “You may be able to travel quickly, but not necessarily quietly.”

            They’re leaving? “Wait, what do you mean? What is going on?” Munetoki cuts in, and the older men shift their gazes over to him.

            “You are going to come with me, Your Highness, to a small village on the coast called Ram. It is the safest place for you to be, as of right now. No one will recognize you out there, and none of Lima’s men ever find reason to travel that far,” Mycen explains, making sure he talks slowly so that Munetoki doesn’t miss anything. “You will be staying with my grandson and I there.”

            “We just want you to be safe, child,” Nomah sits back down on the bed next to him. “Mycen is quite the capable man, so in the case that anything does happen—may our Mother Mila help us—you will be out of harm’s way. I would love to stay with you longer, but I must admit that I am not a man meant for fighting.”

            Munetoki stares up at the ceiling. “I…do not suppose I have a choice in the matter, do I,” He brings his knees up to his chest, forgoing any sense of formality that Mycen had attempted to establish. He appreciates being honored, really, but he certainly doesn’t feel like a prince. “I do trust your judgement, though.”

            “Thank you, Your Highness. I understand how difficult this must be for you, but we are nearly out of options,” Mycen smiles grimly. “In that case, we should consider giving you a new name, to avoid any suspicion. ‘Munetoki’ is not a name you hear often.”

            “It should be something close, at least,” Nomah offers, clasping his hands on his lap. “Perhaps something derived from his name?”

            He isn’t exactly eager to give up his birth name. It was bestowed to him by his late mother, according to what his sister had told him, and in that sense alone he wants to carry it with him. There is an alternate reading for how the first half of his name is written, he knows. One that would not belie his status to someone hearing it for the first time.

            “’Shu’,” he murmurs. Nomah manages to hear him, and nods firmly.

            “’Shu’,” Nomah repeats, as Mycen _hms_ affirmatively. “It suits you well, child. Though it may be what you are called from now on, please do not think that your given name will be forgotten. You are still Munetoki, at least to us.”

            “I will be returning to my room then, if everything has been decided,” Mycen stands from his chair, and turns to the door. “I will be here to meet you at dawn. Be sure to bring the dagger with you, Your Highness. We do not know what dangers lie ahead.”

            Mycen does not specify how far ahead danger may linger. He does not need to.

* * *

 

            Four days pass quickly, being with Arashi all the time. Whenever Mika gets a sullen look on his face, his friend is soon to notice, and manages to drag Mika into a new game or chore that needs to be done. There is no time for him to worry, except for the period of deep silence before he falls asleep each night. It is mid-June, and the air has been steadily getting warmer and warmer with each passing day. On the morning of the fourth day, the sun beats down on their backs and the air is chokingly humid, so Mao suggests that they head down to the lake for a swim. Mika has not been swimming for some time, and he is eager to shed his clothes for a few hours and play. They end up bringing along Mao’s younger sister (because she feels left out) and Arashi’s older brother (albeit reluctantly, and only because Mrs. Narukami insisted that they have some supervision), and they are not the only kids with the idea. Ken’s group of friends is practicing their jumps into the water by a cluster of rocks, and so they steer clear and head to a small clearing at the edge of the water.

            The water is a bit murky, and Mika cannot see the bottom clearly, but he runs in straight away regardless. Minnows gather at his feet as he stands in the water, and Mika laughs when Arashi accidentally steps on a slimy plant at the bottom. Mao leads his sister into the lake, careful not to let go of her hand, and ends up floating in a shallow point to make sure that she does not venture out too far. They spend the day splashing around in the water, making up stories about the hidden creatures that surely live in the depths of the lake. Mika feels truly relaxed for the first time in days, and is thankful that Mao had such a great idea. After one too many a tale of The Underwater Lake Dragon That Eats People, Mao’s sister upsets and Arashi’s brother makes the prudent suggestion of returning home for the afternoon. They wade back out of the water, linger at the shore for a few minutes to let the sun dry them off, and get dressed. Mika’s fingers feel strange after being in the water for so long, but he throws on one of Arashi’s extra shirts anyways and pays it no mind.

            Mao and his sister split off from them at the bend in the road by the town’s well, and by the time they get back, Mrs. Narukami is standing outside the house waiting for them. She smiles and waves as they come up the path.

            “Mika, sweetie, you can head straight home, if you’d like,” she says, and Mika immediately lights up. “Your grandfather paid me a visit while you were gone, and told me to pass that along.”

            “Really?!” Mika beams, running up to her. “Thank you so much for letting me stay with you!” Arashi jogs up beside him, grinning as well.

            “I’ll see you tomorrow then, Mika!” he says, and then waits for his mother and brother to go back inside before adding lowly: “Don’t forget what I told you. I really will teach the kid a lesson if you need me to.”

            Mika feels elation warm up his body; Arashi is the best friend he could ever ask for. “I don’t want you to get in trouble, Arashi, but I know!” Mika exhales, steadying himself. “Thank you.”

            As much as the other boy is worrying him, Mika still wants to get home as soon as possible to see Grandpapa again. The path from Arashi’s house back home isn’t that long, but by the time he gets there, the sun has already started to set. Mika feels nervous all of a sudden, standing outside his own home, and so he goes around to say hello to Molly once before he heads inside. She bleats, nudging him with her head, and that is enough to ground him.

            “I’ll be back, Molly. I promise.” he whispers, and then heads back around to the front. He leans up against the door, to see if he can hear any talking (he can’t, which ties the knot in his stomach further), and then slowly pushes it open.

            “Grandpapa? I’m home,” he calls out, stepping into their small foyer. He kicks off his shoes, setting them down next to the wall where he always puts them, and steps forward. The door shuts heavily behind him, on its own.

            “In the kitchen,” Grandpapa calls back, and Mika’s lips twinge into a grin, despite himself. He takes one final deep breath, and walks into the kitchen.

            Sitting at the table, in _his_ seat, is a boy. Grandpapa had been right when he said that the boy was around his age, by the looks of him, but Mika can instinctively tell that this boy is different from him. The first thing Mika notices about him is his hair. Mika could best describe its color as being like summer clouds on nice evenings; a light, rosy pink that looks almost like his favorite candies, the ones Grandpapa buys him after his training for the day has gone exceptionally well. It looks deliberately cut, as if someone went at the boy’s head with a distinct plan and a sharp pair of scissors, rather than just to trim it and call it a day. His bangs are short, curled in slightly against his forehead, much different from Mika’s, which tend to flop into his eyes. The boy’s hair looks just as soft and fluffy as Molly’s coat, and Mika is struck with the strange desire to run his fingers through it, like he does with most other fluffy things. The boy looks up to meet his gaze, and Mika sees his eyes for the first time: slightly narrow, but still a beautiful shade of lavender.

            “You look like a flower,” Mika blurts out, before he even realizes it, at the same time as the boy speaks up.

 

“Your eyes are different colors.”

Mika flushes pink, probably the same shade as this boy’s hair color, and brushes his fingers through his bangs to distract from his eyes. The other boy stares down at the table, seemingly also embarrassed at his own remark. Grandpapa sighs.

“Boy, come over here and introduce yourself.” Grandpapa says, sounding slightly exhausted. Mika looks at the floor, but walks to the table anyways and stands next to Grandpapa.

“I’m Mika.” he starts, but doesn’t really know what to end with. “And this is my Grandpapa.”

Grandpapa chuckles. “He already knows who _I_ am, boy. Go shake his hand, already.”

The boy stands up, and they meet in the middle along the edge of the table. He is slightly taller than Mika—Mika figures that he is a hair taller than Arashi, if that—so he has to look down to meet Mika’s eyes again. Mika isn’t terribly happy that the boy is fascinated by his eyes, but he’ll do. _For Grandpapa. I can do it._

“I’m Shu,” the boy says softly, and holds out his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mika.”

 _He sounds really proper and stuff_ , Mika thinks, and goes to shake his hand; he holds out the wrong one, however, and quickly switches to correct himself. “Nice t’meet you, too.”

Grandpapa smiles, and then gestures for Mika to take the seat closest to him. “Now, come sit. Shu is going to be staying with us for a while, so we are going to use the extra room for him. I ordered another bed, but the merchant said it won’t be here for a few weeks, so Shu is going to sleep in your room until then. Understand?”

Mika nods. “Yes, Grandpapa.”

            “Good. Now, let’s eat.”

            They say thanks to Mother Mila, and then start their meal. Mika realizes that Grandpapa has made his favorite, beef roast, and can’t help but smile. _Grandpapa really does love me._

            Shu stays quiet for most of the meal. Mika can’t help but notice how deliberate his movements are, as time passes. Every slice he makes with his knife is clean, smooth, as if he is not cutting through a tough slab of meat and instead a stick of butter; his arm moves so minutely as he cuts, using the most efficient and delicate motions to complete his task. He has no trouble skewering the pieces of meat—cut to approximately the same size each time—with his fork, raising them up to his face and placing them in his mouth in one smooth gesture. He chews quietly, with his mouth closed, and finishes swallowing before he cuts another piece. Mika has never seen anyone like him. Maybe if he stares hard enough at Shu, he’ll see some invisible strings connected to his limbs, like some marionette that someone is puppeting from the ceiling. There is no way that Shu is _that_ precise in everything he does.

            _Am_ I _being weird?_ Mika glances at Grandpapa, to make sure that the rest of the world hasn’t developed some new dinner etiquette and decided not to let him in on it. He looks perfectly normal, though, so Mika is convinced: Shu is definitely the outlier here.

            Lost within his musings, Mika jams a piece of meat into his mouth—or at least, that was what he intended to do, except there is nothing on his fork so he just stabs his tongue. He makes a startled noise, which catches his company’s attention, and causes his cheeks to heat up. Grandpapa shakes his head, not entirely surprised, and Shu looks as if he has never seen anyone do that in his entire life.

            “I have never seen anyone do that, in my entire life,” Shu states, which earns a chuckle from Grandpapa. The heat spreads to Mika’s ears.

            “Well, get used to it, boy,” Grandpapa says, and Mika shoves an actual piece of meat into his mouth and pouts while he chews. “Mika isn’t exactly the most refined child out there.”

            “’M better than all th’ other kids ‘ere!” Mika defends, albeit while chewing. Shu looks flabbergasted.

            Somehow, despite their contrasting eating habits, Mika and Shu finish dinner at the same time. Rather than have Mika help clean up, like he normally would, Grandpapa asks him to show Shu around the house and make him feel comfortable. Mika does not know how he is going to make their new guest feel comfortable when he himself is not.

            They start with the living room, where Grandpapa keeps his comfy chair and his favorite books. Mika declares that they use the fireplace in the room only when it’s chilly, and not right now since it’s summer, and Shu does not seem very interested nor impressed in his knowledge of internal heating. He does look intrigued by the stack of tomes on the side table by Grandpapa’s chair, and flips one open to the first page. Shu _hms_ inquisitively, gently closes the book, and Mika stares. _He can read that thing?!_

            The living room is connected to the foyer, opposite the kitchen, so they make a right turn exiting it and march further down the hall. The next room on their right is Grandpapa’s office, where he does all of his grownup work. Mika flings the door open, planning on just showing Shu the space and moving on, but Shu takes this gesture as an invitation and strides over to the looming bookshelf propped against the wall. Mika is not sure that Grandpapa has even read all those books, but by the way Shu is gazing at them, running his fingers down the spines of the ones he can reach, it seems his houseguest intends to try. Shu spins around, satisfied, and walks out of the room with Mika trailing behind him.

            Mika leans up against the hall closet door, next, explaining that Grandpapa keeps things inside that Mika is not allowed to touch. He strongly advises Shu to avoid it at all costs, mostly because he does not know what the consequences would be if he or Shu were to go in there. Shu nods, understanding, and they continue. Mika is thankful for the apparent lack of defiance present within the other boy.

            On the left is Mika’s room. He hesitates for a moment, and then turns to face Shu directly.

            “This is my room,” he pauses. “And yours too, for now, I guess.”

            It’s not very big; just enough to fit his bed, chest of drawers, and a little table and chair. He doesn’t know where exactly Shu was living before, but if the way he eats is any indication to his status, then this probably barely counts as a bedroom in his eyes. Mika instinctively fiddles with his bangs, twirling a strand with his thumb and pointer finger, and stares at the floorboards. Shu moves past him, either ignoring or missing Mika’s bout of nerves, and looks around the room. He places his hand on the bed, feeling how squishy it is.

            “May I sit?” Shu asks, which causes Mika to look up in surprise. He’s never had someone ask for permission to sit on what is to be their own bed.

            “Y-yeah, of course,” he breathes. Shu nods, then gingerly sets himself onto the covers. “It’s yours too, y’know. ‘M not gonna make you sleep on the floor or anything.” Mika moves to sit on the bed next to him.

            “It’s nice in here,” Shu scooches over towards the headboard to make room ( _there was plenty of space already; he didn’t need to do that_ , Mika thinks). “It’s very cozy. I like it.”

            “Y’do? Isn’t it small?”

            Shu places his hands in his lap. “A little, yes. But it’s not bad. Having too much space can be worse, I think.”

            “I guess,” Mika says. “Once we get the other bed, your room will be the one next to this one. Grandpapa’s is the last door. That’s about it, except for the sheep.”

            “Sheep? Mycen never said you kept animals here.”

            It’s weird hearing people call his Grandpapa by his real name. “Yeah! Lemme show you,” Mika pushes himself off his bed, and grabs one of Shu’s hands to lead him out.

            “Wait! You don’t need to pull me, I can walk—” Mika just walks faster, finally finding something to be excited about. He loves the sheep, and he especially loves showing people their little flock. They go through the kitchen, where Grandpapa is still sitting at the table; he lights them a candle to take outside, since it is well into the evening at this point.

            Molly is waiting for him near the gate. As soon as Mika catches sight of her, he skips forward, and practically shoves the candle onto Shu.

            “This is Molly! Say hello to Shu, Molly!” he beams, and moves aside for Shu to get closer to the sheep. Shu looks amazed.

            “I’ve…never seen one, in real life, before,” he says, and tentatively reaches out his right hand. “May I pet her?”

            “Yeah, go for it! She’s real sweet.” Mika guides his hand over to the spot behind Molly’s ears, where he knows she likes to be pet. Shu presses his fingers into the spot lightly, trying to be as gentle as possible. Molly seems to enjoy it, butting her head up into Shu’s touch, but he doesn’t know how to respond and he jerks his hand away, fearful.

“Go ahead. She likes it.” Mika whispers, and Shu tries again. This time, he strokes the top of her head, and doesn’t pull away. Fireflies float around them, illuminating every few seconds, and one lands in Shu’s hair. He doesn’t notice.

“She’s so soft. I’ve never felt anything quite like this,” Shu admits, stepping an inch closer. “In fact, I’ve never seen any farm animals up close, not just sheep.”

“Really? You must not be from around here, then!” Mika laughs. “There’s a whole lot more animals around. I can show you all of them, if you want.”

Shu smiles, genuinely, for the first time since Mika met him, and Mika swears that he’s never seen a more beautiful smile. “I’d like that very much.”


	2. prologue - part 2

Breakfast the next morning goes a bit smoother than the dinner the night before; granted, Mika is too tired to be hyperaware of every little thing Shu does, so that might be why. After they had returned from the sheep pen, Grandpapa suggested that they turn in for the night, as Shu was probably exhausted from the day. Mika had readily agreed, of course, as he does with the vast majority of Grandpapa’s suggestions. There is something about the way that Grandpapa speaks, perhaps the clarity and wisdom shining through in his soft rasp of a voice, that makes Mika feel steady. Grandpapa always seems to know the right thing to do, so there is no reason for him to protest. Unfortunately for Mika, even though it was the right thing to do, does not make it the easiest. After donning their nightclothes—Shu’s were slightly too small for him, Mika noticed, but neither boy said anything—Mika insisted on taking the spot closest to the wall, intending on giving Shu the most room possible in their shared bed. Shu had accepted this, seemingly wanting to be courteous and not reject Mika’s suggestion, and so Mika wriggled on the mattress until his back pressed up against the wall, and tucked his legs in instinctively. Shu glided under the covers, just as poised as any nine-year-old boy could be at settling into bed, and lied on his side, facing away from Mika. Mika couldn’t tell when, or even _if_ Shu fell asleep, he was so quiet. Of course, Mika didn’t sleep a wink.

            Ham and eggs aren’t Mika’s favorite breakfast foods, but breakfast is breakfast. They eat quietly, their meal only joined by the sounds of knives sliding against plates, soft chewing, and the occasional sip of coffee Grandpapa takes.

            “So,” Grandpapa breaks the stillness, setting his mug down on the firm oak of the table. “Although we typically train on Mondays, I think it’d be best if you boys went out today. Shu, you aren’t quite familiar with Ram yet, and I don’t need you getting yourself lost.”

            “I will not—” Shu cuts himself off, and sighs. “Yes. You are right, Mycen.”

            Grandpapa frowns, lines setting into his face. “Remember what I spoke to you about, boy.”

            The expression Shu makes at this is certainly odd, Mika thinks, as he chews thoughtfully on a piece of ham. His face is screwed into a half-uneasy, half-indignant look, and it’s the most undignified Mika has seen him yet. Shu looks up at Grandpapa through his eyelashes, noticeably unsettled, hands clasped together in his lap.

            “…Grandfather,” Shu tries, and Mika nearly drops his fork onto the plate in front of him. He lacks the self-control to keep his jaw hinged, though.

            “Boy, close your mouth while you’re eating,” Grandpapa faces Mika, scolding, and Mika promptly shoves some more eggs into his mouth. “And that’s it, Shu. Mika, for the time being, I’d like you to introduce Shu as your cousin. Can you do that, boy?”

            Mika bobs his head up-and-down, trying his best to keep his mouth glued shut this time. After swallowing his food, he exclaims, “Yeah! I got it, Grandpapa,” Mika eagerly swivels in his chair, to address the other end of the table. “Are we really cousins, Shu? I never knew!” There are some things you get to miss out on, not knowing much at all about your parents (or the rest of your family, for that matter), and Mika can’t say that he’s never wanted a cousin or three. Mao and Arashi both have siblings, as well as extended family in the village, and he’s always been a smidge jealous.

            The other boy (his cousin? _Maybe_?) pauses for a moment, searching for the right words. “Well, no,” he starts, and then glances over to Grandpapa, looking for an out; Mika already deflates. “But…well, I suppose we can be friends, no?”

            “Just go along with it for now, boy. I’ll explain it to you someday.” And that’s that. Grandpapa typically makes sure to let Mika in on things, and so this must be a very serious topic, or Mika isn’t ready to hear about it. Either way, Mika pouts, stands up, and brings his plate to the sink. He hears Grandpapa take another long sip of coffee behind him as he picks up the dishcloth and begins to scrub at the remains of his eggs. Shu is suddenly standing behind him—it’s ridiculous how quiet he is—looking for a place to set his plate down. Standing on his stepstool, Mika is now a foot taller than Shu, and that makes him feel strangely in control. He holds out his hand, beckoning. “Gimme your plate. I’ll do this, and you put ‘em away. Okay? Drawer’s over there.” He points to the hutch next to the stove, and Shu nods and strides over, pulling open the middle drawer.

            “No, no! Below that,” Shu makes a confused face at him, and then bends down to open the correct drawer. “Yeah! There y’ go.”

            “This is a cabinet, though…?”

            “Y’know what I mean!” Mika huffs and twists himself back to the sink, still scrubbing away at a tough spot on his plate. Grandpapa stifles a chuckle, and Mika goes at the spot harder.

            Once everything has been cleaned up, Mika throws open the kitchen door, feeling the warm sunlight hit him. _Summertime really is the best_ , he grins, taking in a deep breath and exhaling. He can smell the flowerbushes lining the side of the house, a light and sweet scent that immediately relaxes him. Shoes clack on the hardwood floor behind him, and his companion appears at his side. Mika looks down quizzically.

            “Y’don’t need those,” he says. “We’re not goin’ anywhere.”

            “We’re heading outside, are we not?” Shu frowns at him, and when Mika doesn’t respond, Shu sighs and hitches two fingers into the back of his shoe, sliding it off with ease. He does the same on the other foot, then begins to set out.

            “Um,” Mika tries hard not to giggle, he really does. “Your socks are gonna get all dirty.” Shu stares down at his feet, and reluctantly takes his socks off too. _He must be a clean freak, huh?_ “Okay, now we can go! Bye-bye, Grandpapa!”

            “Be back for dinner,” he replies, and Shu pales at the realization that they are going to be out _all day._ Mika just laughs out an _okay!_ and grabs hold of Shu’s hand, dragging him out the door, bare feet and all.

            “So!” Mika declares, as soon as the door is shut behind them. “Today is Monday, and I always train with Grandpapa on Mondays, so I don’t really know what to do! We can go see if any of my friends are out today, we can go down to the lake, we can play in the square, or in the fields…” he trails off. “Any of those sound fun? Up to you!”

            “You would know better than I,” Shu crosses his arms. “But, the fields do sound nice. Can we go there?”

            “Mhm! It’s not too far away. Let’s go!”

            Mika tries to start some sort of conversation as they walk, but Shu doesn’t seem all that interested in opening up to him (yet), so he kind of ends up rambling. He does learn that Shu’s favorite food is something called a _croissant_ , which sounds really fancy and is nothing he’s ever heard of, he likes to read, and he has a big sister and brother. They cross the intersection at the well, heading east, when someone calls out to them.

            “Mika! Hey!” Arashi runs up the path, waving to them, and Mika beams and waves back. Shu takes a step backwards, but Mika doesn’t notice.

            “Hi Arashi! Do you wanna come play with us? We’re going to the fields.”

            “Actually, I was looking for you! We’re starting a new game today, remember? It’s your turn to pick, so Mao sent me to find you,” Arashi grins at him, in the sly way that only Arashi can do. “And who’s this?”

            “Oh, this is Shu! He’s, um. My cousin,” Arashi already knows the truth, since Mika didn’t know this was some big secret. “And yeah! We’ll come!”

            “I’m Arashi, Mika’s best friend in the whole world,” Arashi extends his hand ( _the right one,_ Mika notes, _and on the first try, too!_ ). Shu takes it, shaking politely. “Nice to meet you! Hope you like fighting dragons, because that’s what we’re doing today!” Arashi rests his hand on Mika’s shoulder, and Mika understands what he’s trying to say: his offer to take care of things still stands.

            “Dragons?”

            “It’s a game we play. We pretend to be knights and go on a big adventure to kill a dragon! It’s really fun, I promise,” Arashi nods in agreement. “Sometimes we rescue a princess, too. It depends!”

            “Oh,” Shu doesn’t exactly look sold. Arashi shrugs.

            “Well, we can always play another day. It’s no big deal. I’ll tell Mao that you’re busy today, okay? Don’t worry about it, Mika.”

            “Okay,” Mika hesitates. It’s Shu’s first day here, after all, and he doesn’t want to drag him into something weird right away. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

            “Yeah!” Arashi grins, ruffles Mika’s already mussed-up hair, and then runs off down the path to the west.

            “…We could have gone, you know,” Shu murmurs, staring at Arashi’s back as he leaves.

            “Nah, we’re going to the fields, remember? We can always play with them tomorrow,” Mika feels weird; he knows Arashi won’t be mad, but he still feels his stomach twist in guilt anyways. He shakes his head to try and clear his clouding thoughts, and starts to walk again. Shu follows, keeping up at his side, and they fall into a slightly awkward silence the rest of the way. The path to the fields isn’t a long one, but they do have to walk through a patch of the woods near the border of the village’s territory. Mika knows the way pretty well, and he steps over the rocks and foliage lining the ground with practiced ease; Shu’s steps are filled with a sense of trepidation, as if he will step on something strange with every pace. Mika assures Shu that they are almost there, just a few more minutes, and they finally reach the clearing.

            “Here we are! This is my secret spot, so don’t tell anybody, okay?”

            Calling the place a ‘field’ is a bit of a misnomer—it’s more of a meadow, if anything, but ‘field’ is easier to explain to those who come asking. It sits right at the edge of the village, in a place where most kids dare not venture, out of fear for their parents’ scolding. Aside from its lining of dense pine trees, the field is laden with nothing but flowers and wild grass, almost a foot tall in some spots. Since it’s completely encircled with forest, the wind hardly ever touches down near the ground, filling the field with a peaceful stillness, where everything seems to exist untouched. If you lay down in the middle of the field, and stare up at the cut-out of sky above you, it would almost seem like the field is a perfect circle, with the way the treetops would line your vision. Since it’s summertime now, most of the flowers are in full bloom, smattering the ground with pinks and blues and yellows and the permeating scent of sweet grass. It feels magical, and some might say that this clearing had been carved out by some sage, long ago, before the bustle known as Ram Village existed.

            Mika found this place nearly a year ago, having wandered too far off from his group of friends after a heated game of Knights, and has claimed it as his own ever since. The only other person he has brought here has been Arashi, and that was only once or twice. Otherwise, he doesn’t think anyone else is aware of this little clearing, tucked away on the outskirts.

            He takes a deep breath, centering himself, then runs into the middle of the meadow, flopping down on his back and spreading out his arms and legs. His eyes snap shut, and he lets the warm summer air settle over him. Cotton white butterflies float a few inches above the sea of wildflowers, landing in one spot for a few seconds, then moving on. Eyes still closed, he hears the soft footsteps of his companion, and then feels his presence sitting down gently next to him.

            “This place is incredible.” Shu breathes, trying not to break the air of peace that surrounds them. Mika hums softly in response, and then they sit in silence for some time.

            “You can lie down, y’know,” Mika pops his eyes open, and turns onto his right side, where Shu is sitting next to him. “Nothing’ll happen to the flowers.”

            “Alright,” _Was he worried about that?_ Mika thinks to himself, and keeps his eyes open as he flips onto his back again. The sky is a brilliant shade of blue today, nearly cloudless, and it’s still early enough in the morning that the sun hasn’t passed over the treetops yet. It’s perfect. The silence extends a bit longer, as the two boys soak in the nature.

            “I wanted to ask you,” Mika starts, voice as soft as he can make it, for a seven-year-old boy. “Where’re you from? You talk all fancy and always wear your socks even at nighttime and you’ve never seen a sheep before.” He can hear Shu’s breath hitch for a moment, before settling back into its natural pace.

            “I’m,” Shu pauses, for a while. “I…can’t really talk about it. I’m sorry.” He is staring somewhere out into the expanse of the sky, not looking at Mika.

            “S’okay. I was just wondering,” Mika decides to try again. “So, why are you staying with us?”

            “I needed a place to stay, I guess. Mycen—” Shu cuts himself off. “Rather, _Grandfather_ offered his home to me. I couldn’t say no.” And that’s all he gives.

            “Y’know, you can call him that when it’s just you and me. I know we’re not cousins or anything.”

            “I have to practice _sometime_ ,” Shu scoffs, and Mika can’t help but laugh at his tone of voice. “At least I can get it wrong in front of you, without anyone looking at me weirdly.”

            “You’re kinda funny, Shu! I didn’t think you were at all! You seemed all quiet and fancy all time.” Mika says, and Shu jolts up from his bed of flowers.

            “What is that supposed to mean?!” he exclaims, and Mika’s giggles get progressively louder. “You’ve only known me for a day!” Mika can’t help himself now, rolling around amongst a patch of pink and white flowers. “Why is this so funny?!”

            “I—” he gasps for air, and sits up, but has yet to get ahold of himself. “I can’t help it, Shu! You’re finally talking like a normal person!” Shu’s cheeks match the color of his hair, but his eyebrows scrunch close together and he frowns.

            “Why, you!” Shu scooches closer to Mika, intending to stop his laughter _somehow_ , but Mika has the advantage of great reflexes from training twice and week and roughhousing with seven- and eight-year-olds on his days off. He shoots up out of the flowers, and dashes away, laughing all the while. An aggravated _hmph_ comes from behind him, and he peeks over his shoulder to see Shu _actually chasing after him_. The surprise catches him off guard for a split second, which is enough for Shu to gain some ground on him, but Mika dives away into a particularly tall spot of grass. He knows hiding won’t do anything, but he kind of wants to see what will happen if Shu catches him. The other boy runs right up to where he is cowering in the grass, peals of laughter now dulled into little giggles. Shu sits down, crosslegged.

            “Got you,” Shu grins, in between breaths. The smugness of victory etches his face, and Mika thanks the Mother he isn’t mad. Or is he?

            “You’re not mad, right?” he tests, sitting up on his knees. “I was just playing.”

            Shu looks at him, intrigued. “No? Why would I be mad?”

            “I mean, I was kinda being mean. Sorry.” There is the slight possibility in his mind that Shu actually is mad at him, and just isn’t saying so. Mika’s mind likes to wander and think of the worst, in any situation, but that doesn’t mean he’s wrong…

            “Don’t apologize.” Shu says firmly, crossing his arms. “We, we were having fun, weren’t we?” Shu looks away, and Mika notices a smidge of dirt on his face that he didn’t see before. He reaches up his hand to brush it off, and Shu stiffens almost immediately.

            “Some dirt on your face, hold still,” Mika murmurs, and runs his palm over the spot; Shu’s skin is really soft for some reason. Shu’s left eye squeezes shut as Mika’s hand moves below it, rubbing gently. Once it’s gone, Mika pulls away, smiling. “There y’go. All better!”

            Having someone that close in his space makes Shu tense, and he doesn’t unwind right away, even after Mika is back to sitting down. An idea strikes Mika, and so he stands up, and begins to search the field for blue flowers he can use. Giving Shu some space for a second doesn’t seem like a bad idea, either. He picks a whole bunch, stems and all, and brings them back over. In the middle of snapping them stems in half, Shu comes back to him.

            “What are you doing?” he picks up one of the intact flowers, twirling it between his fingers delicately. “They won’t last, if you pick them.”

            Mika shakes his head. “Wait a minute. You’ll see.” Once all the longer stems have been trimmed, Mika presses the tip of his fingernail into the remaining bit of stem, until it pushes through. He slides another stem through the slit, pulling it until the blossom is flush against the other flower’s stem. He does this over and over, using all his flowers, Shu watching patiently all the while. At the last flower, he completes his chain and slides it through the first flower, forming a circle. Satisfied, he rises to his knees and leans in close to Shu, placing the crown gently on the top of his head. Mika adjusts a few of the petals close to the front, slightly askew, and then sits back down with a proud huff. Shu’s eyes and fingertips wander up to his head, mystified.

            “It’s a crown! I knew blue would look nice,” Mika beams. “Looks pretty with your hair and all.”

            “I—” Shu stares at him, eyes still wide in wonder. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

            “Aw, it’s nothin’,” he sits back down, criss-crossing his legs, and rests his palms behind him. “I can teach you sometime, if you want? Well, Arashi knows how, better than me, so maybe you can ask him…”

            A silence falls between them, tinged with the gentle, distant sounds of birds chirping and the breeze swaying the treetops. Mika does not find it particularly uncomfortable, though—it is more akin to the quiet that comes with rising early in the morning, all on his own, blanketed by stillness and warmth, rather than the hesitant silence that arises from incompatibility or disconnection. This is the type of quiet that is not broken, but instead pulled away softly with the sounds of speech, like drawing back the covers or stoking the fires at the hearth. They lay there, indulging in the lack of people, noise, and disturbance, and spend the day adjusting to one another’s company.

            Mika does not see what Shu does with the flower crown, once they return home. There is a small part of him that hopes he keeps it.

* * *

 

As Mika discovers, in the following weeks, Shu is somehow capable at everything.

            Well, _nearly_ everything—everything that really matters, as far as Mika can tell. He notices it the most during their study days, when they join Grandpapa in the living room thrice a week. Mika is still learning how to read (and he knows how lucky he is that Grandpapa can even teach him, considering that most of the villagers never needed to learn), and it is not his strong suit, to say the least. Normally, he becomes a bit frustrated, his tongue tripping over words the more syllables they have, but manages to work his way through whatever passage they are focusing on with Grandpapa’s kind words of encouragement, and the understanding that Mika is still only seven. He reads all sorts of texts, ranging from history books to fantasy novels, and even the occasional military books that Grandpapa keeps in his office. Grandpapa likes to sneak those tactics passages into his lessons, despite Mika’s complaints of _I wanna read about princesses and dragons and stuff, I don’t get this,_ and _do knights really read this stuff?_ Grandpapa always insists on teaching him about tactics and the like, though, under the pretense of _you’ll need to know these things someday, boy, and then you’ll be thanking me_. 

Mika still thinks it’s boring.

Aside from that, Grandpapa also teaches him some basic arithmetic (a word that Mika can never quite get out) and provides for him an, albeit military-focused, history of Valentia. All in all, Mika does not especially mind study days. He’d rather be at home with Grandpapa than at the fancy school in the next village over that Mao goes to during the colder months.

            Once Shu begins to join them for study days, any previous confidence Mika had in his learning goes straight out the window. Passages that take Mika upwards of an hour to fully parse, with Grandpapa’s help, Shu completes within about ten minutes, even going so far as to give his own retelling and explanation of what he just read. Mika finds himself squinting down at the tiny letters on a yellowed page, about three lines down, only to look up to see Shu with his hands folded in his lap, waiting for more. Grandpapa chuckles at this, and offers Shu a piece of parchment and an inked quill, and asks him simply to write. Shu is confused, at first, but then draws the quill in neat, practiced curves and lines across the page. All the while, Mika stares, his eyes peering over the dyed fabric cover of the book he is supposed to be reading from. Grandpapa turns his attention to Mika, and reminds him to keep reading.

            Shu is a natural at every subject Grandpapa presents to him; reading, writing, arithmetic, history, even tactics. Mika begins to feel as if he is playing a desperate game of catch-up, as Grandpapa is clearly impressed with Shu’s abilities. There is still a feeling of awe that resonates within him, as Shu is supposedly only a year or so older than him, and there is no way that he will be able to reach Shu’s level, as soon as he turns eight. One day, after a long afternoon of studying in the overly-humid living room, Mika’s curiosity gets the best of him.

            “How are you so good at this stuff?” he blurts out, as Shu is placing his study materials back onto the bookshelf from whence they came. Shu turns around, his shoulders tensing at Mika’s sudden question, a bit startled.

            “I…do not know what you mean?” Shu’s mouth contours into a slight frown, not fully understanding Mika’s outburst. “What we’re learning is not very difficult.”

            Mika shakes his head, his bangs covering his eyes. “Isn’t it really hard? And you’re doing stuff that’s way more hard than what I’m doing!”

            “Am I?” Shu’s response seems even more incredulous to him. They had been learning together for several weeks at this point, and somehow Shu had not taken notice of the fact that he and Mika were at completely different levels.

            “Yeah!” he strides up to the bookshelf, rising onto his tiptoes to slide his things onto the shelf, right next to Shu’s. “You always finish your reading first, _and_ you can write, _and_ you always get the armetic-, arthem—”

            “Arithmetic,”

            “Yeah, that! You always get those problems right! How?”

            Shu pauses, trying to find the right words. “I…I studied a lot, back at the villa,” he trails off, and then realizes what he has just said.

            “Vanilla?”

            “No, _villa_ ,” Shu sighs. He had not meant to give Mika the specifics of who he is ( _was, at this point_ , he has gotten into the habit of thinking), but Mika had certainly heard him, so there was no backing out of it now. “It’s like a big house, I suppose. I spent every day studying, so maybe that is why you think I am so good at it.”

            Mika looks quizzically at him. “ _Every day_? That’s crazy! When did you go out and play?”

            He shrugs in response. “Studying was more important.”

            “Well, I guess it worked, since you’re really smart!” Mika feels slightly better, knowing that Shu has had a clear advantage over him, to begin with. The lingering worry about not being good enough for Grandpapa begins to dissipate, since it wasn’t as if Shu was a born genius who was this good during his first day of studying. More than anything, Mika feels a strange feeling well up in him, a blend of pride and admiration, for knowing that someone so smart and hard-working was his friend. Mika decides to test out the new word he’s learned. “In our _villa_ , we play and do other stuff, besides just studying, though!”

            A hand flies up to cover Shu’s mouth, and he turns away from Mika as soon as his words leave his mouth. His shoulders tremble a little, and Mika is suddenly very concerned. Did he say something bad? Was Shu upset? Maybe he was too quick to assume that Shu was his friend, and now he hated him? Mika let an _ah!_ escape his mouth, and he rests his hand on Shu’s shoulder tentatively.

            “Are…are you okay? Please don’t me mad, I’m sorry, I swear!”

            Then, something very strange happens. Shu slowly faces Mika again, and Mika realizes what is going on: he’s _laughing._

            Silently giggling, to be more precise. The face that Mika makes spurs on his laughter even more, until his hand had retreated from his mouth, and crossed over his midsection.

            “You—this is not a _villa_!” he continues to giggle. “This is a house! A villa is a lot larger than this, Mika.”

            Mika’s face heats up for a moment, but the embarrassment is quickly replaced with the sweet elation of seeing Shu overcome with laughter for the first time. He smiles back at him, and ruffles the back of his hair. “Oh, really?”

            His companion nods, settling down. “Yes. Villas are like estates. I probably should have said so, before.” He then frowns. “I apologize for acting like that.”

            “No, don’t be sorry! You can do that as much as you want! I promise!” Mika says, and grabs ahold of Shu’s hands. “It makes me happy when you’re happy!”

            Shu’s face breaks out into a bright smile, and he grips Mika’s hands tighter. Grandpapa calls them in for dinner, and Shu leads the way into the kitchen.

* * *

 

Living in Southern Zofia brings along with it the swelter of heat and the settle of humidity, and Ram Village typically receives the brunt of both. As it is situated near the Southwesternmost tip of the Valentian continent, springs are warm and summers are hotter, and its close proximity to the sea does it no favors in regard to the blanket of moisture in the air. The villagers are mostly used to these types of thick, drawn-out summers, being that most of them have lived in the village or somewhere nearby for their entire lives. Merchants and other rare visitors, on the other hand, are not as lucky. Zofia is generally considered to be the fairer kingdom on the continent, as Rigel to the North is known typically for their harsh winters and harsher leadership, but the Northern parts of Zofia closer to the border never become as humid as those to the South. Of course, the extended summers are welcome to the Zofian people, as they allow for a longer growing season and more plentiful crops--many farmers pray to the Mother for a bountiful harvest, as she had nurtured these conditions many centuries ago, as it is told--and they would not trade their lands with the Rigelians for anything. Mother Mila is kind to her people (perhaps too kind, those close to the current king would argue, as any and all injustices enacted by King Lima IV rarely received punishment) and the Zofians take this in stride.

            Ram Village, as usual, bustles throughout what could easily be lazy summer days. Despite the solid four months of heat they typically to get, the days fly by, as there are vegetables to be planted and tended to, animals to be reared and eventually slaughtered, wood to cut and metal to be forged. The children are allowed to play on most days, but there are more jobs to do and so many parents will catch their kids by the collar as they try and make their escape out the door.

            Mika’s household is no exception, as the sheep need to be sheared and the oranges harvested from the trees. Merchants come to collect their stock on a weekly rotation during the summer months, as there is the most opportunity for profit. Saturdays go from study days to harvesting days, Sundays are spent stocking and organizing and planning, and sunrise Monday morning the villagewide marketplace opens. The merchants have their routines, visiting the same houses in the same order practically every time, and they scant deviate from their purchases. The tall man with the tattered black cloak comes first, ordering a box of fleece (Mika has always just called it fluff, since that’s what it is and everyone seems to enjoy hearing him call it that. He teaches Shu to do the same, without telling him what it’s really called, and Grandpapa gets quite the kick out of hearing him say it to a merchant in all seriousness. Shu is not very happy.), and he brings with him fresh parchment and ink. Grandpapa always buys stationery whenever merchants have it available, so the tall man knows to bring it. He pats Mika on the head, routinely every Monday during the summer since Mika can remember, and slips him a hard candy. The first time he meets Shu, he does the same for him as well, much to Shu’s surprise. Dragging himself out of bed at sunrise can be quite the challenge for Mika, but it’s always worth it for the sweets. The next merchant that arrives is not until much later in the morning, a boisterous young woman that Mika always can hear coming from a mile away.

            She’s a furniture lady, Mika knows, because she had brought Grandpapa a new desk last summer. Ever since then, she tends to swing by their house, even without any deliveries for them specifically, just to check in on things and see if they need any new wares. He also knows her from the time he spends at Arashi’s house, since the Narukamis sold her metal for construction. When she arrives, on a morning in early July, crate in tow, Mika is able to put two and two together.

            “Hello there, sweetie!” she calls out to Mika, grinning widely and pulling along her cart. “Is your grandfather about? Got a delivery here for him!”

            “Uh-huh!” Mika calls back, and runs around to the side of the house, where Grandpapa is counting stock. “Grandpapa, the furniture lady is here!”

            Mika hears her greet what must be Shu, judging by her _hi there, honey, haven’t seen you around here!_ that resounds across the yard. He dashes back to the front again, Grandpapa following close behind.

            “Well met, Mycen!” she beams, throwing out her arm, inviting a handshake. Grandpapa takes it, and firmly returns the greeting.

            The furniture lady is nearly all muscle, and double Mika’s height, at least. At first, Mika was a bit frightened of her, simply because of her loud voice and overbearing presence. He has since warmed up to her, especially since Grandpapa seemed to trust her enough.

            “I got your bed right here, Mycen! Came out real nice, too. Figured it was for the little one, but it looks like you’ve got another kid hanging ‘round here now!” she laughs with her whole body, puffing out her chest and throwing her head back, and then places her right hand on her hip. “Need help getting it inside?”

            “That would be a great help, Alana.” Grandpapa swings open the front door to the house, and then turns back to Mika and Shu. “Boys, call for me if anyone comes by the house, understand?”

            They nod, and the two adults head inside, carrying the crate. Mika plops down on the grass, pulling out the candy he received earlier, peeling off the wax wrapper eagerly and tossing it into his mouth. Shu sits down, much more carefully, removes his own candy, and turns it over in his fingers.

            “I’ve never seen a woman like that,” Shu says quietly, brows furrowed, and Mika can’t help the giggle that escapes him.

            “Really? Plenty a’ladies are like that, at least ‘round here.” he says around the cherry candy in his mouth. “I was kinda scared a’her, at first. But she’s nice!”

            “Aren’t ladies supposed to be more…” Shu searches for the right word, to convey what he’s trying to say. “Proper?”

            “I dunno. You’re the properest person I’ever met, Shu. I dunno any ladies like that.”

            Shu _hmms_ , but doesn’t say anything after that, and gingerly unwraps his candy. He holds it up to the sunlight, sees the sky dyed red through it. It reminds him briefly of the necklace his sister used to wear, the one that was given to her by their mother, an ornate pendant crafted from garnet. He places the candy on his tongue, careful and deliberate as ever, like someone is always watching him, and is a little disappointed. He was hoping for strawberry.

            “It looks like that’s your bed, though!” Mika smiles at him, reveling in the secondhand excitement. “You got your own room now!”

            “Yes, I suppose I do.” he shifts the candy to the side of his mouth, so he can speak at least somewhat well. For some reason, Shu feels a nagging sense of unease, but he puts it off.

            Later that night, once the bed is put together and Shu’s meager belongings moved into his new room, the two get tucked into their respective beds. Grandpapa agrees to leave a candle in the sconce in the hallway, at least until the two fall asleep, as both of them share a fear of the dark. Shu is still wary around fire, understandably, and so the bed is placed in such a way that he can be turned and not see the flickering afterimages dancing across the walls.

            Mika, by some miracle, passes out as soon as he hits his pillow. He liked having someone to share his bed with, if only for the comfort that company brought him during the night, but he can finally stretch out his legs and splay himself under the covers, on his back. The summer night is heavy and warm, and it settles over him as sleep comes.

            Shu, on the other hand, is not as lucky. His new bed is not terribly uncomfortable, by any measure. It isn’t his high-quality bed, back at the villa, but it is nowhere near as stiff and foreign as the bed he slept in at the inn. This bed is nice and soft, the comforter light yet insulating, the pillows conforming to the shape of his head when he buries his face into them. All in all, it’s perfectly acceptable. His bedroom is fine, as well; it is around the same size as Mika’s, with a window to the left of the bed, which he has opened to let the breeze in. Mycen— _grandfather_ —has been very considerate of his situation, all things considered, and Shu is grateful for his hospitality and understanding. And yet, Shu does not sleep. He tosses and turns, for the first half-hour, before he lays still, exhausted and on the verge of frustration. His eyelids are heavy, but his limbs feel cumbersome and he cannot find a position that suits him. A chill runs up his spine, and he shivers and draws the covers in more. Five minutes later, he is too warm, and he casts them off in a futile attempt at regulation. More than an hour has passed, at this point, and Shu contemplates just giving up and staying awake the whole night, until this discomfort has passed. Tomorrow is a study day, though, and Shu cannot be tired for that. He huffs, sitting up, and crosses his arms. Normally, he would go find a servant to fetch him some water, or sneak out of his bedroom, hiding in the shadows along the hallways, until he reached Arika’s room. His sister was always willing to share her bed, and being in the same room as someone else was typically enough to lull him to sleep in the end.

            Perhaps that was why he had such an easy time, sleeping in Mika’s bed, Shu reasons. He weighs his options: stay here, and risk not falling asleep at all; find his caretaker, and risk the shame of not appreciating the accommodations that had been made specifically for him; find Mika, and own up to the younger boy that he was no better than a child. Not wanting to commit to any of these paths, Shu slinks out of bed, quiet from years of practice, and pads into the hallway. The flickering of the candlelight is both soothing and off-putting, and he does not want to stay out here for long, so he turns towards Mika’s bedroom.

            Mika is fast asleep, by the looks of it, head turned to the side, and one of his hands hanging off the edge of the bed. Shu has never seen Mika like this—every night, Mika would just curl up against the wall on his side, so Shu had assumed that that was just how he slept. Seeing this, though, Shu realizes that Mika was kind enough to offer him as much space as possible. His heart feels strange, at that thought, so he steps closer to the bed. He can see now the wet trail leading from Mika’s mouth onto the pillow, but also the convenient carving of space on the bed where he could likely fit himself. Shu returns to his room, to fetch his own pillow, sets it down in the empty space by the headboard, and tries to be as quiet and undisturbing as possible as he slides under the covers. Hopefully, he will get lucky, and Mika will not even realize that Shu was supposed to be sleeping in his own bedroom, instead waking up to the same presence in his bed that has been there for the past month. Better yet, Shu decides to wake himself up as early as possible, and avoid Mika noticing all together. He closes his eyes, and immediately feels better, enough that sleep overtakes him. Old habits die hard.

            During the night, Mika instinctively throws his arm over the warm thing next to him, and snuggles close. Unfortunately, that means that when Shu wakes up, at the break of dawn the next morning, it is much more difficult than he initially had imagined to slip his way out of bed. Mika practically has him in a deathgrip, unlike all the other nights they had slept together, his arm around Shu’s waist and his right leg curled over Shu’s left. His heart wrenches, differently than before, and this time he can identify the feeling of sadness that has seized it; Arika was a heavy sleeper, and there were few times when she would not grab hold of him in the same way Mika has done now, each time Shu would sleep in her bed. He misses his sister dearly.

            Shu somehow manages to disentangle himself from Mika’s body, without waking the other boy up. He goes to peek in the kitchen, to see if Mycen ( _grandfather, grandfather, grandfather_ , perhaps if he repeated it enough, it would stick) had risen yet, and indeed he had, sitting at the table, sipping his morning coffee. The man looks up, offers Shu a good morning, but not before letting out a soft chuckle to himself. Shu has the lingering suspicion that he knows what he finds amusing, and feels his face flush as he sinks down into his seat at the kitchen table. Maybe tonight would be more successful.

            It takes Shu a full week after getting the bed to actually sleep through the night in it. Mika is none the wiser.

* * *

 

            The meadow becomes their private spot as the months go by. They spend their time trading stories, staring up at the sky, and let the warm breeze carry them through the summer. They fall into a comfortable pace alongside each other, learning when to speak and when to listen, simply enjoying the company when neither of them feel like talking. Mika never would have thought that he could learn to live with anyone besides his Grandpapa or maybe Arashi--but he has even come to enjoy Shu’s constant presence. Shu may be quiet and reserved, rarely acting like his age, but Mika finds him to be relaxing as his anxiety wanes over the course of the summer. Arashi will always be his best friend, he reasons, but Shu feels like something different, a company that he cannot quite define. He decides to revel in their relationship for what it is, despite how suddenly it came into his life, and he thinks he feels Shu do the same.

            It is one breezy September morning that they find themselves back in their secret spot, with no plans for the day. The summer trading season went particularly well this year, Grandpapa says, so they have some extra free time to take it easy. A thought comes to Mika on their walk through the forest, that he doesn’t know when Shu’s birthday is, and he worries that he might have missed it. Shu laughs gently, shakes his head, and promises Mika that it isn’t until the end of October. They resolve, at Mika’s insistence, to ask Grandpapa to place an order at the local bakery for a cake sometime within the coming weeks. Shu’s favorite flavor of cake is strawberry, as Mika needles out of him, and Mika wonders aloud if that’s because of his hair color. Despite the defense Shu gives him, Mika reaffirms to himself that it must be the reason why; they are both pink, strawberry cake and Shu’s hair. Once they arrive at the meadow, Shu asks him to look for some white flowers, without telling him why. He insists that it is a surprise, which is enough to set Mika off on a search through part of the field. If Shu wants him to do it, there must be a good reason behind it. He has no problem following what Shu tells him to do, simply because he knows Shu would not lead him astray. Mika becomes lost in his own thoughts as he peruses the field in search of the whitest flowers he can find, daisies and baby’s breath and freesias and the like, plucking stem after stem of wildflowers, until Shu’s voice calls out from behind him, beckoning him over. He has collected quite the bouquet at this point, all stark white in his hands. Shu does not say anything else, once he arrives at his side, so Mika just sits down and offers him the flowers. Shu gets to work, and Mika lays down in the patch next to him, watching the clouds roll by, like always.

            “I’ve always wanted to ask,” Shu starts, unsure of whether or not to keep going, but he decides to come out with it anyways. “Do you…see any differently? That must be a strange question, I apologize.”

            Mika is puzzled, at first. “…No? I don’t get it.”

            Shu clears his throat, more hesitant now. “Your eyes. Since one is a different color, I thought…”

            Oh. That made more sense.

            Mika does not like talking about his eyes, one gold and the other a bright blue. The kids and adults around the village tended to stare at them, in both amazement and distaste. Mika hoped that the years would slowly chip away at everyone’s curiosity, but no one had ever seen anything like them before, and so time marched forward without much progress on that front. Some of the meaner kids would take to calling him a monster, and some would even poke and prod at his face to see if they could change the colors at will. He is thankful for one thing, that came along with bearing these odd eyes—they brought his best friend to him. Arashi had overheard a particularly rude comment from one of the older boys around their age, one day, and punched him square in the face before he could say anything else. He had scared the living daylights out of Mika, doing it only a few feet away from him, but ever since then, Arashi had been his closest ally in the world. Every time he met someone new, though, he would still brush his unruly bangs right in the way of his line of sight, just to avoid their eventual questioning. Mika was honestly surprised it had taken this long for Shu to make a comment, after their first meeting, months ago. They were more comfortable with each other now, so Shu must have wanted to wait until the right time to bring it up. His question was innocent enough, so Mika exhales and closes his eyes.

            “Nah. They’re just different, they don’t do anything weird,” he flips over onto his side, facing away from Shu instinctively. “Nobody knows why I have ‘em. Not even Grandpapa.”

            Shu hums inquisitively, but is satisfied by Mika’s answer. “Alright. I was just curious. My apologies for asking.” He pauses again. “They remind me of some dolls I had. My two favorites had eyes that were like—”

            “Y’had dolls?” This is an infinitely better conversation topic, in Mika’s opinion. “I never heard of boys playing with dolls!”

            “Yes. My sister received them as gifts, but she never wanted them. Is it really that strange?” Shu frowns. “Like I was saying, one had blue eyes, and the other had gold, and yours reminded me of that. That’s all.”

            Mika wants to ask more about these dolls, but it feels like his window of opportunity has shut. Shu certainly doesn’t seem intent on sharing much more of his previous life, and Mika doesn’t want to push it, despite his curiosity. So, he leaves it be, and returns to laying on his back.

* * *

 

            In the town square of Ram, villagers are flitting about, all hustle and bustle with news and rumor, fact and fiction alike. Apparently, some men on horseback, men with Northern accents and plate armor and bearing the royal banners of Zofia, have arrived at their village. No one can decide on the exact reason for their visitation: mothers pass along that they have come to snatch up the prettiest village girl to be the King’s next concubine; the farmers speak in low tones about a royal decree to limit mercantile access, trading information along with stock; the working young men worry over drafts; the kids buzz with fear and excitement, at the thought of gallant knights coming to capture some ruffian hiding out in their village; the elders gossip their doubts at these men even being knights, as there is no way the current king has any vested interest in their coastal village.

Mycen passes through the square, on his way to visit a friend of his that lives across town, and catches sight of the Zofian knights, who have now made their way down the main road. He recognizes their leader, a scoundrel of a man who must have wormed his way up from being a simple recruit up to commander of his own squadron, on the name of his noble house alone, in the time of his retirement from the Knights of Zofia. He hears this commander declare that they are simply doing routine checks along the outskirts of the country, intending to swiftly extricate any bandits they encounter along the way, as King Lima IV is—and always will be—a kind and generous man who cares for his people. Mycen knows this to be entirely false, and is certain that these knights have an ulterior motive for their presence. As far as he knows, no one is aware of his retirement to Ram—he simply vanished, his name sill echoing the halls of the knights’ quarters at the castle, spoken reverently by new recruits, _the legendary Sir Mycen_. He has had his suspicions for quite some time that the assassination attempt on Lima’s successors, the great fire at the villa, was an inside job. If it was not some power-vying noble, looking to snatch up the throne before any heirs took root, that had set the private villa ablaze, then perhaps it had been the king himself, in a selfish effort to confirm his absolute reign. Regardless, these knights most certainly could, and would, recognize Zofian royalty by physical characteristics alone; some of them might have even paid visit to the king’s heirs in their time as knights. Mother Mila only knows what they will do, upon finding the youngest heir to the Zofian throne, who is supposed to have been nothing but ashes for several months now. Mycen’s senses sharpen, instinctively, from the years he has spent on the battlefield and in war rooms alike.

He does not know where Shu and Mika have run off to for the day.

            Mycen ignores the crowd of people beginning to encircle the knights, instead striding towards the Narukami Blacksmith, but manages to overhear something crucial: they will be conducting a thorough scan of the entire village, border to border, under the name of protecting the villagers from any suspicious activity. Mycen walks faster. He manages to pin down the youngest Narukami, the one person in the village who would know Mika’s whereabouts the most accurately, playing alongside the Isara children outside of his family’s shop. Arashi chirps that Mika and Shu are probably playing in the meadows out by the forest, and offers to lead Mycen there. He stoutly refuses, but requests that the children go to collect their friends and head back into town. There is a pang of guilt in Mycen’s heart, for asking these children for this serious favor, but they are less likely to be noticed and will probably not sense anything wrong. The kids set off down the dirt road, past the well, and Mycen heads for the local stables in the opposite direction.

            He would not let anyone get their hands on the prince.

* * *

 

            “Close your eyes.”

            Mika is caught off guard, at Shu’s sudden words, once again. He follows the directions he has been given though, and sits up with his eyes closed. He feels the gentle press of fingertips in his hair, and briefly thinks _this must be what it’s like to be Molly_ , as something lightweight rests upon his head. What must be Shu’s hands continue to adjust his hair, fluffing and smoothing certain spots, adjusting strands of hair until everything must have been perfect. He feels Shu’s presence leave his space, but keeps his eyes closed.

            “Alright, you can open them now.”

            Mika takes a moment to adjust to the bright daylight surrounding him, and blinks a few times to get his eyes working again. He looks up, reaches up with his hands, and feels the same flowers he had gathered earlier, woven into a tightly-knit crown. A smile lights up his face before he knows it.

            “As I thought,” Shu looks warmly at his handiwork. “White looks nice, in your hair.”

            “I— _Shu_ …”

            Shu shushes him, but is smiling. “I wanted to return the favor. You made me one, the first time we came here, remember?”

            Mika nods eagerly. His wreath is made simply, with flowers that he picked himself, but he feels like Shu has just declared him prince of the world.

            “Also…” Shu looks down at his hands, grasped in his lap tightly. “I wanted to say thank you. For being my friend. I was really scared when I first came here, and I thought that I wouldn’t want to talk to anyone, or be around anyone, but you still wanted to be with me. It meant—it means a lot to me. I…just, thank you. That’s all.”

            Tears spring up in Mika’s eyes, and his heart swells. He reaches out to grab Shu’s hands, and holds them in his own.

            “Shu, that’s—”

            A shriek suddenly cuts through the forest, and the boys finally take notice of the distinct sounds of trotting, too close for comfort. Shu seizes, tearing his right hand away to fumble at his right hip, and Mika freezes in his spot. The same voice calls out for help, and Mika’s blood runs cold. It’s Arashi. He’s heard that voice for the majority of his life. That is his best friend.

            Shu pulls him up, still clutching at his side, and suddenly the kick of adrenaline surges up within Mika. Without thinking, all the things that Grandpapa has taught him, trained into him, dominate his mind and sever him from the bindings of anxiety. Mika stumbles forward, finds his bearings, and sprints towards the clamor. Shu cries out behind him, but does not want to be left alone, and so he pursues. The flower crown falls off and lands squarely in the middle of the meadow, forgotten.

            Mika is not the biggest boy for his age, and he is thankful for it as he peeks out from behind a tree, watching the situation unfold in front of him. No one has felt their presence, at least not yet. Five men tower on horseback, protected by sturdy armor and lances and the authority of adulthood, but what concerns Mika more is seeing his friends surrounded by them. Arashi is facing what looks to be the leader of these knights, Mao standing behind him with his little sister hiccupping and crying in his arms. The commander slides off his horse, and still easily overpowers Arashi.

            “Well, well, well, look at this little flock of ugly ducklings we’ve stumbled upon, boys,” the knight laughs, hand on his lance. “Now, what are you _brats_ doing all the way out here? Looking for bandits? Got a death wish? Get out of here. Run on back to your mommies and daddies, kiddies.”

            Arashi stands his ground, but Mao is quick to save face, as he always has been. “No sir, we were just lost, sir, we’ll head back now, won’t we?” He kicks the back of Arashi’s shin lightly. Arashi doesn’t move. Mao kicks harder.

            “’S that your baby sister there, boy?” the knight gestures over to the sobbing mass contained in Mao’s arms. “Y’got any older sisters? Been looking for some nice _hospitality_ , but it seems like there’s no ladies out here in the middle of nowhere. Howsabout we all head back to the village together, and you brats can show us around. Sound fair?”

            Mao does not have any other siblings, but pales nonetheless. Arashi is scowling, now.

            “We’re not going anywhere, _sir_ ,” Arashi crosses his arms. This does not please the knight.

            “Oh? Is that right? Well, if you insist, then I suppose we can all stay put right here and have nice friendly chat and talk out our differences,” the knight says, mockingly, then barks out a laugh. “Think you’re all tough, don’t you, you little brat. Alright, let’s see just how strong you _really_ are.”

            The knight seizes Arashi by the back of the neck, lifting him up like he was nothing. Arashi squirms in his grip, flailing and kicking, but the knight points the tip of his lance directly at Arashi’s face, and that is enough for the fear building up within Arashi to control him completely. Mao’s sister wails behind him.

            Seeing his best friend like that is enough to rouse Mika from his stupor, and he does something that he has never done before. Shu reaches out to stop him, but once again, Mika’s reflexes prevail.

            The commander—nor the other four knights, for that matter—does not see the blur of a seven-year-old boy that runs up behind him, and kicks him square in the back, right in the gap of his plate armor. He drops Arashi out of surprise, who quickly scrambles back at the opportunity, and turns around to face his assailant.

            “Oh? Another rat has come out of the woods to play with us. This one’s a feisty one, boys,” the commander growls, and strides right up to Mika. Shu, overcome with nerves, steps out of cover to try and pull Mika back into the denser trees. And all of a sudden, the commander stops in his tracks.

            “You there, boy!” he calls out. “Let me see your face.”

            Shu’s hands are trembling where they cling, desperately, to the back of Mika’s shirt. He takes a step backward, but then jumps as soon as the knight brandishes the lance in his direction. The man crouches down to get a good look at Shu’s face. Shu can only stare down at the ground, and try not to cry.

Realization slowly dawns on the commander’s face, and then a grin crawls its way in to replace it.

            “Well, what have we here?” the commander begins to laugh, and stands back up. “If this ain’t the find of the year! Never thought that I’d see _you_ , all the way out in the sticks. How delightful. Alright. We might not get to have our target practice, boys, but this really takes the—”

            A javelin soars past the commander’s face, cutting through the thick air, coming close enough to leave a hairline scrape on his right cheek. Everyone whips around to face the East, and the remainder of the knights ready their weapons in wait. And as if sent by the Mother herself, Sir Mycen gallops out from the trees, a second lance in tow, grasped tightly in his right hand.

            Mika immediately feels a wave of relief wash over him. Grandpapa was here. Everything would be fine now.

            “If it isn’t the legendary Sir Mycen,” the commander spits out, gloved hand smearing the trail of blood running down his cheek. “Well, I suppose lightning _does_ strike twice in one place. Nobody has seen you for years, old man, but I think I know why now, seeing this little brat here…”

            “Children,” Grandpapa speaks slowly, but clearly. “There is a cemetery not far from here. You need to run. Now.”

            “But, Grandpapa, what are you—”

            “ _Now_. Do you understand me, boy?”

            Mika nods vehemently, and Mao calls out a hurried “Yes, sir!” Shu is still scared stiff, and so Mika takes hold of his hand and pulls him away, and the five children scurry off into the woods.

            Adrenaline still ensnares Mika’s senses, as he weaves in and out of trees and bushes and skips over the thick roots protruding from the earth. His thoughts are stuck in a loop of _it’s okay, Grandpapa is here, we’re fine, keep running, are they behind me?, are we there yet?,_ but he is jolted out of them at the clang of metal and the choked scream that rings through the air. Mika runs faster.

            They arrive at the graveyard in only a short few minutes, after sprinting as fast as their legs could carry them. Mao’s sister is still crying, in high-pitched wails. “I wanna go _home_!”

            Mao does his best to soothe her, but it is difficult, when he himself is on the verge of tears. They are all shaken. The sounds of whinnying and hooves pounding into the dirt begin to come closer, and it is Arashi who gathers up both his strength and their little group together, and ushers them to hide behind a particularly large epitaph. All they can do is wait.

            They do not have to wait long, as the commander comes bounding through the forest, yanking back on the reigns of his horse and grinding to a halt. He clutches his left arm, blood seeping through his fingertips, and is swearing up a storm. His eyes are still on his prize, though, and so he goads his horse to weave in and out between the tombstones, in search for the little boy whose capture will guarantee him a noble title and the ultimate job security. Grandpapa emerges next, brandishing his spear, with three other knights at his heels. He too circles around the graveyard, and Mika debates running over to his side. He looks over to his companions—Mao with his hand tightly clamped over his sister’s mouth, Arashi peeking around the side of the heavy stone wall, and Shu, who is still hanging on to his left hand for dear life, and a shiny golden dagger clutched in his other hand. There is no feasible way for them to move, not with the threat of the four royally-trained knights, encircling them like vultures. Mika takes a shuddering breath, and tries to ward off the heavy stone of anxiety that begins to settle in his stomach. He goes to peek out from the right side of the epitaph, and realizes that Grandpapa is much closer to them than he originally thought—only a few headstones away, compared to the other knights, who are several hundred feet ahead of them. Mika looks up at the sky and thanks Mother Mila, as it seems that luck is on their side.

            “Grandpapa!” he tries his hardest to whisper-shout, barely loud enough for Grandpapa to catch, while not informing their opponents of their location. “Over here!”

            His companions all look incredulously at him, Arashi especially. His best friend reaches across Shu to tug him back to the center of the epitaph’s shadow, but Mika escapes his grasp by a hair and keeps leaning to the side. It doesn’t seem like Grandpapa has heard him, since he continues to pace his horse forward, closer towards the commander knight. But after a few more moments of silence, Grandpapa suddenly lurches forward on his horse, and charges at the man, without inhibition. Grandpapa launches another spear in the man’s direction, but it misses and strikes into the soil in front of a headstone. The commander bites out a laugh.

            “You’re a brave one, old man! What would you have done if one of your precious little rats were hiding there?” he sneers, and calls out to his company. “Boys! This fool seems to only be concerned with fighting us, after all! So, let’s give him the fight he’s asking for! And if you find the prince, do try to avoid killing him? I’d like to deliver him to the Chancellor with his head still attached, you know!”

            _Prince?_ Mika looks around in confusion, as if there might be another young boy hiding behind a headstone, the same as them, because there is no prince all the way out in Ram as far as he knows. Beside him, Shu pales, but no one seems to notice. Arashi, taking advantage of Mika’s confusion, seizes the opportunity and manages to pull Mika back into relative safety.

            None of the children dare to poke their heads out, after that—in fear of both being seen and actually seeing the fight as it plays out. Steel clashes against steel, and ground-shaking thud of a horse keeling over mixes with another piercing scream.

            “Everyone’s gonna be telling stories about this for _months_ ,” Mao whispers, half-jokingly. “They’re totally gonna think the graveyard is haunted now, and we’ll be the only ones who know.”

            Arashi glares at him with a huff, but doesn’t say anything, because deep down he knows that Mao is trying to ease the tension for everyone, including himself. They hear Grandpapa shout from across the cemetery, and the sickening slice of metal against raw flesh. This time, the horse scares, and runs off into the forest with a whinny. There’s only two knights left, aside from the commander, so Mika offers another prayer to the Mother.

            His prayer is not heard.

            One of the remaining knights has taken to the search, in place of his commander, and is drawing dangerously close to their hiding spot. The sounds of combat and the ambient noise of nature mask their breathing, but not much else, and so the children remain absolutely still. Shu grips the dagger harder, so much so that his knuckles turn white and tremble. Mika scans around, searching for anything that could possibly deter the knight from discovering them, but finds nothing that wouldn’t reveal their presence in the process. They could run, but the knight is on horseback, and would surely be able to catch them in no time, even if they got a head start. There is nothing to do but stay put. He reaches to grab hold of Shu’s other hand, so that they can share in each other’s support, and comes to a realization as he places his hand over the hilt of the dagger, right on top of Shu’s. He meets Shu’s gaze, then looks down at the dagger, and then back at Shu again. Mika then balls both his hands into fists, puts them on top of one another, and makes stabbing motions with his hands. _Get the horse, get the horse, get the horse!_ Mika yells in his head, and hopes that in the moment Shu has suddenly gained the power to read minds. Shu swallows, and nods curtly at him, raising silently into a squat, as far up off the ground as he can go without being overtly seen. When Mao and Arashi shoot him perplexed looks, Mika bobs his head up and down to try and tell them that this is the plan. The knight is approaching fast. Another muffled choke and startled neigh cry out, and there is only the commander left for Grandpapa to face. It’s now or never.

            Mother Mila turns her divine gaze to the children once again, and as the knight rounds the corner of the epitaph, he turns the other way to inspect the adjacent tombstone first. His horse is in full view next to them, and Mika screams in his head for Shu to do it, as this is their one chance. Everything seems to move in slow motion, as Shu stands up to his full height. The knight meets Mika’s eyes, seemingly caught off guard by the mismatched colors, but his gaze only is let to linger for but a second.

            The golden dagger slides into the horse’s right flank as if it were butter, and as it turns out, Shu is as good as slicing things with big knives as he is with small ones. His cut is clean, precise, and deep—Shu uses the force of his whole eight-year-old body to drag the dagger down, all the way through the horse until it slices through down to its underbelly. He lands unceremoniously on the ground, flat on his face with his arms outstretched in front of him, but with the dagger still secure in his bloodstained hands.

            The horse, understandably, is not content with this. It cries out in pain, an ear-piercing whinny that carries across the cemetery, and begins to panic. It bucks, kicks, and thrashes, and pays no heed to its rider, as it is a borrowed horse from a few villages over, not one meant to be ridden into battle. In its fervor, the horse bucks forward violently, and the knight goes sailing through the air, colliding headfirst with a tombstone. There is a sickening crack upon impact, and the horse tears away. The knight does not come back for them.

            Arashi rises to stand, trying to get an idea of the happenings across the graveyard, as Mika grabs ahold of Shu and helps him into a sitting position. The boy is visibly shaken, drained of whatever will possessed him to strike the horse in the first place, and slumps in Mika’s arms. Mika runs a hand through Shu’s hair, trying to calm him, while the other ensnares him in a hug. A small whimper escapes from Shu’s mouth, as he lets himself rest in Mika’s arms.

The two men remaining had their lances locked together, pushing back and forth, but the commotion causes enough of a distraction for them to pause. Seeing that he has no men left, seeing that he is already injured, and seeing that he bears two invaluable pieces of information to carry back to the Chancellor, the commander spits out a curse, and draws back his lance.

“Don’t think I’ll forget this, old man. We’ll finish this another time.” He grabs for his reigns with his free hand, and retreats back into the woods. Grandpapa lets him. All is clear.

Grandpapa rides in their direction, bringing his horse to a halt in front of the epitaph. Mika notices, strangely enough, that he does not look one bit relieved. “Thank the Mother, you all are safe,” Grandpapa says anyways, and dismounts from his steed.

“Why’d you let him go?” Mika asks, still clutching Shu close. “You could’a—”

“There is no time for that, boy,” Grandpapa crouches down, and reaches a hand out to Shu. “Can you stand? We need to make haste.”

Shu peeks out from Mika’s chest, hesitantly, but with a sense that he knows it is something that he must do. He nods, rubbing his sleeves into his eyes. Mika stands up with him, but does not let go.

“Boy,” Grandpapa looks as grim and serious as Mika has ever seen him, so he knows that whatever comes next is immutable. “Let go of him. We need to leave immediately, before night falls. There is not a second to waste.”

Leave? “Whaddaya mean?” Where are they going? “Are you going somewhere, Grandpapa?”

His grandfather sighs, deeply. “ _Mika_. You are going to stay with Arashi, until I return. Do you understand, boy?”

“But—”

Shu disentangles himself from Mika’s arms, and takes a step towards Grandpapa. He is still holding on to the dagger.

“Shu? Why’re you—”

“Mika,” Shu says, soft enough to be a whisper. “Thank you. For everything.”

_What?_ Mika does not know what to say, how to feel, what to do, so he desperately latches back onto Shu’s hands.

“It is not safe for him to stay here a moment longer, boy,” Grandpapa states, with no room for disagreement. “I will explain it all to you, someday, but now is not the time.”

The sun is beginning to set, staining everything with a deep gold. Mika stares down at his and Shu’s long shadows, linked together by the afterimage of their hands. The layer of incredulity in his heart has been peeled back, as reality sinks in that Shu is really leaving him. It is replaced by a complicated blend of feelings; sadness, loneliness, and the distinct fear that he will not see Shu for a very long time, if ever again. It is almost funny, Mika thinks, that he was so worried about Shu’s arrival just a few months ago, and now he never wants him to leave. If he looks Shu in the eyes, he is not sure that he will be able to stop his own tears from coming, so he continues to keep his gaze transfixed on the ground and tries his best to act grown up. Shu massages his fingers, ever so gently, and then pulls them away.

“I’ll miss you,” Mika manages to get out, but he still does not lift his head.

“I will, too,” Shu murmurs.

There is a pause, where neither of them wants to take the next step, to be the one that says the first farewell, and seals their fate. Grandpapa is starting to look a bit impatient, but does not interrupt the boys further, knowing that they will wrap this up soon. In that moment, Shu makes a decision.

Mika feels something delicate press up against his cheek, and then disappear as soon as it was there, like a butterfly had just landed on him for a fraction of a second while laying still amongst the flowers. He finally looks up, only to see Shu pull away, his cheekbones tinged a sweet pink, the color of his hair. Shu takes another step backward, averting his eyes, and Mika brings a hand to his face in a stupor.

“It’s…” Shu trails off, clearly embarrassed at his own actions. “It’s a fancy way of saying goodbye to someone. That’s all.” Based on his expression, Mika thinks ( _hopes?_ ) that there is more behind it, but he simply smiles and doesn’t mention it.

“Thank you,” he feels the loneliness ebb away, swept up in a sea of sudden warmth.

Shu nods to Grandpapa, and steps toward his horse; Grandpapa hoists him up onto it, and then swings himself up to be seated behind him. Mika walks up to Grandpapa, and receives a gentle fluff of his hair in return.

“I won’t be long, Mika,” Grandpapa assures. “Do you remember what I told you?”

Mika bobs his head up and down. Arashi steps up behind him, and places an arm around his shoulder.

“Good boy. Be careful while I’m gone.”

And with that, Mika’s summer ends.

* * *

 

            “My apologies, Your Highness, for not offering you time to collect your belongings.”

            They are nearly at the next village, now, and evening has settled into night. Mycen would normally stop for the night, to let his charge rest, but time is of the essence and there is the possibility that the commander from earlier has already alerted more knights to their local presence. They will travel under the cover of darkness, until they are far away enough that no one knows their names. Shu does not know where exactly they are headed, or how long it will take to get there, but he knows deep inside of him that this had to be. Even if it meant abandoning the new life he had created just a few months ago, this was ultimately the better option, if it meant that he would escape being ferried back to the capitol. Shu leans back into Mycen, as night has brought with it a chill.

            “No, I understand,” he says. That does not mean that he is happy about it. Shu’s upbringing in courtesy and manners and princely acquiescence is starting to return to him, now that he has left the village. There are some things he absolutely did not want to leave behind, but he knows better not to voice his grievances. There is a time and place for making a fuss and being obstinate, and this is not one of them.

            As Shu keeps his thoughts to himself, he can picture clearly the one thing he would have brought with him, had he been offered the choice. It is tucked away under his bed, right beneath where his head would lie on his pillow. When Shu had first arrived at the village, he had scoped out Mycen’s library, looking for any titles he recognized or even enjoyed. There was one of his absolute favorites, hidden away on a corner bookshelf in Mycen’s office, and so Shu committed his one act of delinquency and took it for his own, before anyone could notice. If he ever awoke within the night, from some night terror or otherwise, he would reach under the bed and pull out the book, in an effort to calm himself down and settle back in.

            However, Shu would not have brought with him the book, if not for what he kept inside of it. Pressed tightly within the pages, brushing up against the seam, almost too big to fit properly inside, was his favorite keepsake from the stay. Shu smiles to himself, hoping maybe that one day Mika would find it, and think back to their first trip to the meadow.

It is a shame, he thinks, that he could not wear the crown he was bestowed out in the daylight, for people would surely know him to be a prince.

* * *

 

            Far away, in an estate close to the Northern Border, two young men dance around each other, training swords clashing, in a graceful duet that they have practiced every day. Moonlight streams in from the arched windows, drawing spotlights on the floor around them, illuminating their faces as they breach it, for their invisible audience. This is the only time that they can share the stage, otherwise too wrapped up in training exercises and the other happenings of knights-to-be. Despite their synchronized movements, like they are two souls combined, the two young men are quite different, in every way. One is the heir to a noble house, the other comes from a family of traveling merchants; one is loud, boisterous, and loving to all, the other is cold, standoffish, and privately intimate; one is slated to rise the ranks of the Zofian Knighthood, becoming a commander, the other is fated to win his title through nothing but blood and effort. They are the sun and the moon, fatefully intertwined, sharing the same light.

            The taller one catches a split-second opening, and lunges forward to prod his sword into his opponent’s chest. His companion lowers down to the floor, and he follows his movement with the tip of the blade.

            “You’re so amazing!” the shorter one beams, and slides out from under the sword’s reach. He bounces back to his feet, and moves towards the towering windows, seemingly accepting his defeat and finding the rest to be irrelevant.

            The other places his hand on his hip, and drops his practice blade to the ground. “You saying that is not going to make either of us any better. But, whatever. We’ve done enough for tonight, I guess.” He is used to his companion’s temperament, so the sudden shift in interest does not outright bother him, at least as much as it used to. He marches to the beat of his own drum, and writes up the music score for every other instrument in the orchestra to follow his lead, no matter how many times the tempo changes. How other people are going to adjust to that, when this young man has his own squadron one day, is anybody’s guess. “How annoying.”

            The shorter one lets out a hearty laugh. “You say that, but I know you’re not annoyed! If you really were, then you’d’ve caught me before I could make my grand escape!” He jumps up onto the windowsill, and faces the full moon. “Hey, think there’s any monsters about? It’s a full moon, after all! Let’s go hunt ‘em down!”

            A scowl forms on the other young man’s face, but before he can retort, his companion picks back up. “Two gallant knights, on the prowl for the supernatural! They vanquish the werewolf that has been terrorizing town, under the stars and the moonlight all alone, and are lauded as heroes! It’s kinda romantic, don’t you think?”

            “Nooope,” he drawls, rolling his eyes. Secretly, that does sound pretty appealing, but someone has to be the rational one amongst the two of them. “Where do you even come up with this stuff?”

            His companion shrugs, continues to stare up at the moon, and that’s that.

            “Hey,” _Now what_ , he can’t help but think. “You…you’re not on the King’s side, right?”

            Where did this come from? “Uhhh, no, you know that already. The guy doesn’t deserve shit, let alone to be the King of all of Zofia.” He pauses. “Why? Don’t go spreading that around, or we’ll both be in trouble.”

            His companion is practically glowing in the light of the moon. His shadow is much taller than he, framed in a glowing pane of white, and it lends him the presence of a leader, even at fifteen.

            “I’ve been thinking,” his companion begins. “We should form our own knighthood. A secret one, of course. You, me, and some of the other guys in the squadron. None of us are in line with the King—if we strengthen our numbers now, then we could already have an alliance in place for when he eventually kicks the bucket. It’s gonna happen eventually, and I want to be prepared for when people start swooping in on the throne.”

            He sighs, and rubs his temples. His companion was always so earnest, so idealistic, that it could be hard to shoot down some of his more reasonable ideas. “Look, I’m gonna be honest with you here. We can’t trust the entitled rich boys in our squadron as far as we can throw them,” his companion makes a scrunched-up expression, so he clarifies. “Not _you_. Of course I trust you. But we all know that you don’t act like one of those brats, so you’re the exception. All the rest of them? They’re gonna turn their backs on us as soon as they get the chance, if it means earning more respect for their family names. I’m on board to form an alliance, but it has to be between you and me.”

            “We could always invite that Suou kid!” his companion offers, still holding onto the idea of this being a knighthood, not just an alliance. “You’ve met him before, right? He’s practically in love with the idea of chivalry! All we’d have to do is tell him a little about our esteemed King, and he’d be with us in a heartbeat!”

            “I am _not_ ,” he says flatly, “Forming a knighthood with a ten-year-old. He isn’t even a knight yet.”

            His companion pouts, but accepts his word. “Alright, then. Just you and me against the world, for now.”

_As it should be_ , he thinks, and wants to say out loud, but he has too much pride. “Let’s take an oath then.” He picks his practice sword back up off the ground; they weren’t made to actually stab someone, but at the right angle…

“Ooh! A blood oath! See, this is why I love you. You completely get me,” his companion grins, and hops down off the windowsill, sticking out his hand. “Go ahead, stab me! Make it count!”

“If I ever hear you say that again, I will for real, you idiot,” he finishes drawing a thin line across his own palm, just deep enough to bleed, and then takes his companion’s to do the same. His companion holds still, entirely trusting, and smiles brightly at his wounded hand. They take each other’s hands, pressing them together tightly, as their ichor mixes.

“To the Deliverance, and all its secrecy.”

“What? _The Deliverance_? Where in the world did you get that from?”

“I dunno! Thought it sounded cool. We can always change it, if you want. I don’t mind.”

He shakes his head. “Nope. You said it, and now we have to keep it. We just swore a blood oath on that name. How annoying. Tell me next time when you’re about to name our secret knighthood, will you?”

His companion beams once again, encircled in a halo of moonlight. “Will do, Izumi!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi everyone! i am so so sorry for the four month delay! i wrote another 4k almost immediately after the last chapter, so i figured that i would have it done pretty soon afterward, but school got in the way, and now its june. on the bright side, i just wrote the rest of the chapter in the span of two days! so hopefully ill be able to update again soon. 
> 
> just a few notes:
> 
> i forgot to mention the origin of shu's royal name, last time! i chose munetoki (宗辰), for several reasons. one, the first character of the name is the same as shu's. two, the second character represents the dragon in the chinese zodiac, which i thought was fitting for shu's dragon card. also, fire emblem is big on dragons, so i thought it fit nicely there too. third, it was a pretty uncommon name, taken by royalty, so i thought it was appropriate for shu to have to change it to something less of a dead giveaway.
> 
> shu's sister is named arika, after the lead singer of ali project, who wrote miwakugeki. 
> 
> i plan on deviating away from the events of sov quite a bit, simply because there are so many characters i'd like to fit into the story, but not enough roles to fill. this fic will still follow the general plot structure of the game, but things will be different, trust me!
> 
> i hope you enjoy, and please feel free to talk to me @harmonyleaf on twitter!


	3. interlude - i

The servants had never considered him a selfless person.

Between him and that—that  _thing_  which had masqueraded as his caring lord brother for so many years—he had always been the needy one. He was the petulant child who demanded extra sweets after mealtimes and tossed his tomes on the floor when he did not feel like studying, the brat that sulked without constant attention yet rejected anyone who dared to get too close in ways he did not like. And now, by some strange hand that fate had dealt, he is the fugitive heir who has abandoned his responsibilities to find some modicum of inner peace, or at least stake his revenge in the process. Deep inside him, there is a small flame of guilt, for crawling out his bedroom window in the dead of night and leaving the remnants of his family without an heir. He manages to quell the uneasy fire that smolders inside him, though: at least there were no other siblings for him to leave behind. No one would miss his presence, surely.

Ritsu is better than him.  _Ritsu is better than him._  As long as he kept up that mantra, those unnecessary feelings would eventually subside.

Traveling under the cover of darkness, he had stalked west across Rigel, taking care to avoid the major cities and noble manses, with nothing but a map of the country and his sharp intuition to guide him. He had been tempted to simply head south, cross through the eastern sluice gate and seek sanctuary within the Temple of Mila. Eastern Rigel was dominated by the Faithful, though, and it would be much riskier to wander through their territory without being caught and shipped straight back to the manor. Ritsu knows well of the Sakuma house's place within the hierarchy of the Faithful, and they have already lost out on one bargaining piece of nobility; he's sure they'd be less than thrilled to lose a second. There was also the looming threat of being rejected, once he reached the Temple of Mila at the Zofian border, and the fear of having to turn right back without refuge.

And so west he went.

It is now that he stands, battered and wet and cold and drenched in a whole slew of unpleasantness, at the heavy doors that will lead him to true escape. The High Church of Rigel is as stately and grand as its title implies, its halls said to have been granted blessing by Duma himself when it was first established. It is a mecca for the citizenry of Rigel, a place where common and noble ilk alike find purchase as the years grow darker and the seasons colder. Despite the steady growth of the Duma Faithful, especially in the east, the High Church had remained as a bastion of healing and strength, with its dozens of smaller churches throughout the country. Many seek audience with the clergy every day, and a select few are permitted to speak with the High Priest himself, if their needs are most dire.

Ritsu ushers himself under the stone overhang of the entryway, in a worthless attempt to stave of the chill of the rain. Thankfully, it is late enough into the evening that there is no queue of people lined up out the doors, and the guards grant him entry without much of an explanation. He is here to see someone in particular, but he chooses not to play his hand just yet.

It is pleasantly warm inside and smells faintly of incense and parchment and burning wax. The halls are lit by fading candlelight alone, the dense storm clouds outside leaving no opportunity for moonlight to stream in through the windows. Clergy roam about, despite the hour, and it is not long before he is noticed.

A cleric approaches him, before he can even cross into the main hall. She looks indistinguishable from any of the other priestesses roaming through the halls, in her soft blue robes. "Good evening, sir. What has brought you here, so late into the day? Is there something which ails you?"

Rainwater has made his own robes quite heavy, and they cling to him uncomfortably. "Nothing in particular," he puts on a soft drawl, a bit slower than his normal speech, innocent and honeyed. "I  _am_  looking for someone, though. Do you think you could help me?"

"Of course, sir. For whom are you searching, if I may?" Her gaze flickers down to his feet, where mud has collected on the soles of his boots, for but an instance.

"A priest—an old friend of mine," Years of practice in wooing his servants serve him well. Ritsu tilts his head slightly to the side, slides a faint smile on his lips, and lowers his eyes just a bit, just enough to meet hers. "Would you be able to show me to the bedchambers? He is patiently awaiting my arrival, I am sure of it."

The cleric breaks their eye contact, again staring down at the carpeted stone floors for a second too long. She is unsure, definitely, and looks to be on the cusp of showing him out.

"It would be enough to lead me there, I assure you. I will not occupy your time any further than that," he reaches his hand up to tame part of his hair. He never liked the rain. "Or, perhaps I could find my way there myself…? I do not wish to bother you."

"Of—of course not!"  _Too easy._  Having such a noble presence worked in just the right ways. "Right this way, sir. But please, I ask that you speak with one of the head priests if you plan to stay the night. We welcome travelers, you see, but—"

"I understand, thank you," Ritsu grins warmly, having no plans on visiting with any head priests whatsoever. "I appreciate your kindness, miss. Now, if you would…?"

She offers him a curt nod, a faint blush dusting her cheekbones, and leads him to the west wing, through a series of winding hallways. It reminds him a bit of the manor, in a strange way. In his younger years, he would wander the halls, creating intricate maps of his own home, memorizing them until they were so rote that he could find his way without candlelight to guide him. It had been useful back then, each time he snuck into the library late at night, or the kitchens to purloin some extra cookies, or to  _his_  room.

Ritsu brushes that thought out of his mind, and mentally traces his way back to the main hall instead. Distractions are good.

"…Sir?"

 _Ah_. "Thank you very much," he gets out, before the puzzled look on the cleric's face morphs into something more akin to disdain. "I am sure to find my friend, thanks to your assistance. I bid you a good evening, miss." She doesn’t look completely convinced, but bows at him and takes her leave regardless.

Ritsu pauses, for a few minutes, and puts on a show of finding his mysteriously invisible dear friend. He checks around corners, approaches a few doors, and meanders around the priests' bedchambers while making himself look purposeful. After a well enough buffer of time has passed, he makes way back to the main hall, without a shred of insecurity (and he hopes, suspicion).

The main hall has cleared out a bit more, even since his arrival not ten minutes prior. The clergy head in for the night, now that they've shut their doors to any more potential visitors, and some make rounds to tend to the ill and wounded one more time. No one pays him heed as he paces up the stone steps at the rear of the main hall and pushes his way through the wood doors. The hall he enters is dimly lit, much narrower than the other corridors of the church, and is protected by two guards at its end. He isn’t supposed to be in here—or in  _there,_ for that matter—without express permission and escort. Ritsu doesn’t really care.

Before the guards have a chance to speak, he does so first.

"I request an audience with the High Priest." He makes sure to stand just a bit taller, straightening out his posture like he has been taught to do since he was a child. Persuasion, Ritsu has found, always comes down to presentation.

"You cannot simply—"

He doesn’t have the time nor the energy for this. "Inform him that a dear confidant of his is looking to make good on an old promise," Ritsu lowers his voice, narrows his eyes. "And make sure to tell him that if he breaks his end of the deal, I will surely not be keeping mine."

One of the guards, an older man with a patchy beard, decides to be quite the bother. "Absolutely not. His Grace is not seeking any further audience today, and even if he was, not a soul is permitted to march right in and demand his attention!" The other guard nods in agreement, arms crossed. "I do not know how you got this far, you interloper, but you will not remain for even a moment longer!" He motions towards the sheath resting at his hip.

He does not get any further than that.

The guard crumples to the ground, landing on his knees, desperately tearing at his throat and gasping through tarried chokes. The invisible force mixed with the thrall of panic turns his face a bright red. Within a manner of seconds, he has passed out on the ground, face planted firmly into the carpet. His peer is frozen in abject horror, seemingly moments away from passing out himself.

"You'll let me inside, yes?" Ritsu slyly grins and squeezes some of the remaining dampness out from his robes.

The other guard drops his lance and, unwittingly, joins his friend on the floor, not needing any more convincing. Ritsu always liked to strive for efficiency.

Without the guards in his way, he can now clearly see the intricate markings etched into the wooden double doors. Symbols snake around the edges, warding the doors in place of heavy steel, and wrap around themselves in ouroboros circles. The lines are sharp and precise, just a bit too accurate to be carved by human hand alone. To the untrained eye, these are nothing more than decorations—a demonstration of craftsmanship in the name of the High Priest, suitable for the entrance of his chambers. However, Ritsu's knowledge spans much farther beyond that, especially in the realm of magic. He lets his fingertips brush against the indents in the wood, running them delicately from rune to rune. At his approximation, these characters behaved as magic seals, a unified barrier protecting the innermost sanctum of the High Church from unwanted entry, arcane or otherwise. He recognizes simple ones, intended to block out elemental and light magic of all varieties, knit together with wards against dark magic, all looping together with high-level strengthening wards. Beyond that, though, there are some symbols that he cannot parse, even with his years of tutoring and familial heritage. Of all the texts on magic that he's studied, all the scholars and arcanists he's spoken with, all the hours he's spent combing through every last drop of ink in the manor's library, he cannot make out what a quarter of these runes are meant to do. His family held ties back to the earliest instances of Valentian magic, hundreds of years ago, and has kept records of it through the generations. If this isn’t anything he can recognize, then… then what did that imply? There is a small feeling of  _something_  (scholarly intent, perhaps? Not that he held any plans on returning with his findings to the manor or any of his peers) that itches at him to copy these foreign runes stroke by stroke onto whatever scrap he can find. He has more important business to attend to, though, and so he shakes the thought from his head.

He expects resistance, when he pushes slightly on the rightmost door.

It opens without hesitation.

The chambers look exactly the same as the last time he had seen them: tall stained-glass windows, procedurally depicting the flight of Duma from Archanea and the founding of Rigel across the panes; vaulted, sloped ceilings, painted with the evening sky; the soft glow of hundreds of candles in silver holders; immaculate white marble floors—

Well. Immaculate until he sees the blood.

Something must've been dragged inside, as dark stains of dried blood and dirt streak across the stone. They draw his eye across the room, all the way to a haggard man who is kneeling on the floor, head down and a corpse in his arms.

Ritsu shuts the door behind him. No one in the room acknowledges his presence.

"Please, Your Grace! I—I beg of you, there must be something within your power!"

"There is nothing that can be done, unfortunately," the voice that speaks up is unfamiliar, not the person that he nor the man are seeking assistance from. This person speaks softly, yet carries a definitive tone, absolute to the point of being distant. "You must understand. This is something that cannot be assuaged by any sort of healing. We must kindly ask you to leave, sir."

The man's voice reverberates as he cries out. "No! You can't just—you can't say that! You do not understand—"

"This is a heavy burden to bear, sir. We hope that you might find strength in our Lord, in these trying times. Now…" The person strides from his position next to the altar, likely making way to usher the man out. For but an instant, he meets Ritsu's gaze. Before he can call out, though, the man speaks up again, drawing his attention.

"Y-you don't understand, you—! That—that  _thing killed her!_  One second she was right as rain, perfectly fine, nothing strange, and then, then, it  _did this!_ " he nearly drops the body on the floor, and now stands, facing the High Priest directly. "I—I ran here as fast as I could, Your Grace! I knew… I knew no one else in all of Rigel, nay, all of Valentia, could help me—help  _her_. You must understand, Your Grace, please, she's my  _daughter_ , Your Grace, I can't lose her, please…!"

"Sir," the man adjusts his spectacles, letting out a deep sigh. "Your daughter is beyond this world, now. There is simply nothing that can be done. We are deeply sorry that we cannot help you any further—"

In seemingly less than an instant, the man has rushed up to the altar, still raving in hurried pleas and choked-out sobs, grasping with bloodied hands at the High Priest's robes. The next moment, the bespectacled man is pulling at his shoulder, trying to physically pry him off before things would naturally escalate.

The High Priest raises his left hand. "Enough."

All is quiet. Both men let go.

"I do understand your plight," he begins, lowering his arm back to his side. "Make no mistake about that, good sir. Your pleas do not fall on deaf ears, not in this church, not in this company. You have made the correct decision, bringing her here, relying on the assistance of the High Church. You have our greatest appreciation for seeking our strength.

"However. I must impart on you the severity of the situation, I am afraid. You may find this knowledge to be intolerable, and thusly I have omitted from bringing it to light until this moment, so that your mind might be free from the evils that rot it within. It is clear that without this knowledge, you will certainly not find peace, and so you must humbly forgive me for revealing it to you despite those dire consequences. If you would rather escape from this truth, then I cannot hold you back, and I ask that you evacuate these halls while you still have the chance."

The man remains immobile, frozen by the High Priest's lilting tone.

"Very well. Sir, I must inform you that your daughter is not simply deceased," he pauses, letting the silence hang, only tinted by the ambient noise of the rain and the flickering candles within. "It appears to me that the cause of her death was not simply physical. Her presence feels… hollow. I am afraid that her soul was stolen right from her body. She has not—nor will ever—pass on. You have my condolences, but there is truly nothing in my power, vested in me by our Lord Duma, that can be done."

"Wh-what…?" Ritsu can feel the impact travel through the floor as the man drops to his knees. "Stolen? Y-Your Grace, you cannot be…"

"I speak nothing but the truth, good sir," he bows his head slightly at the man, and turns around. "Now, if you would kindly excuse me, I will be retiring for the evening. May our Lord's blessings be with you."

With a nod to the bespectacled man, the High Priest descends the altar steps, making way to the door to his private chambers. He pauses at the exit, before calling back behind him. "If you have some business with me, Lord Sakuma, then it would do you well to follow."

That's more than enough of an invitation for Ritsu.

The High Priest's personal chambers are exactly as he would have expected, luxurious and airy and without a spec of dust or grime. He is reminded of his own chambers, back at the manor, and the feeling that results from that realization is somewhere in between familiarity and discomfort; he had no plans on standing in a room like this any time soon. Heavy bookshelves line the walls, a chaise and some pillows set as a reading nook at the back of the room; embers smolder at the hearth of the grand fireplace, waiting to be stoked; at the far-right corner of the room, an ornate staff is held in place by an oak stand. A door to his immediate right leads to what must be the High Priest's bedroom and bathing quarters, as neither commodity is present in this main chamber.

And for whatever reason, the High Priest of the Church of Duma is brewing tea.

"I hope that chamomile is to your liking, Lord Sakuma," he says, before Ritsu has even gotten the chance to close the door. "You'll forgive me for not offering you any sweets to go alongside it—it is quite late in the day, after all." He practically glides over to the table in the center of the room, setting down a platter.

"I'd much prefer if you called me Ritsu, thank you," he pulls out a chair and sits down, reaching for one of the cups on the platter. The tea is piping hot. "Nothing more."

The High Priest stifles a laugh, hand poised in front of his mouth, evidence of the pleasantries burned into him. "If you so desire," he blows some of the steam from his own cup, and drinks as if the tea wasn’t scalding. "…You may do the same for me, if you'd like. I do not wish to make you uncomfortable, prostrating yourself to a level far below that of my own."

Ritsu raises an eyebrow. "You don't? Hmm, I might have to take you up on that, Your Grace."

He smiles tersely, setting down his teacup. "Yes, although now I must insist. Hearing someone like you refer to me with that title is quite uncomfortable."

A voice in the back of his head rouses, whispering for Ritsu to ignore the High Priest entirely just to annoy him. It's difficult not to follow it.

"Some guards you have out there," he decides to change the subject, lest he give in to temptation. "Didn't seem like they do very much. If I may, you might want to consider upgrading," the tea is still steaming when he brings the cup to his lips, but it's cooled enough for him to not burn his tongue.  _Oh, well,_  he figures,  _might as well have some fun while I'm here._  "…Your Grace."

"You're as stubborn as I remember, Ritsu," the look he gets is half amused, half irritated. It suits the High Priest well. "They're for decoration, mostly, but I appreciate the input. Are there any other flaws in my security system that you would like to point out, while you're at it? I'd love to hear them."

"Well, I don’t think that fancy door is doing you much good, either. Let me right in."

"Oh, no, that was my doing. Did you seriously think that I wouldn’t recognize someone of your magical caliber?" Ritsu tucks that bit of information in the back of his head; not that he wasn’t aware of the High Priest's abilities, but he didn’t realize the degree of sensitivity he had. "I must admit, I am a bit disappointed."

 _Had no clue, really._  "Never doubted you for a second," he drawls instead, as sincere as could be.

His comment earns him another laugh, and the High Priest brushes some stray strands of hair behind his left ear. "Thank you for that, then. Now, why are you really here?"

The fire is nearly out in the hearth, Ritsu notes as his gaze briefly flickers past the High Priest. There's no servants or clergy around, so one of them is going to have to relight it eventually. "Exactly why you think I'm here, Tenshouin."

"Well, from my point of view, there's two possible reasons," he takes another sip of tea, letting silence fill the room for a moment. Ritsu really doesn’t appreciate the histrionics, especially since they both already know where this is going. The High Priest sets his teacup back on the tray, now empty. "Either you need my assistance, or you're here to try and kill me again. I'm very curious to see which one it is."

"Which do  _you_  think?"

He hums. "I wonder. Let's suppose that you've been sent by the Faithful to assassinate me. Now, from what I know of you, I believe you are the type of person who values efficiency, and you'd have probably made some sort of move already rather than sit around and drink tea with me. I don’t think that they care very much about any information I possess, so you wouldn’t have any obligation to interrogate me, or torture me, or what have you. I doubt that your interest in me would have changed that drastically. Considering what happened last time, I would have been dead the second you had me alone. Or, you could have gone after me as soon as I let you into the chambers. Certainly you've gotten stronger since the last time I saw you, and you would have had ample opportunity to make your attack and eliminate all the witnesses. It’s a shame you didn’t, to be quite honest. I haven’t had a reason to exert myself in far too long.

"But," Ritsu regrets provoking him, just a little. He had forgotten how long this went on for last time. His voice steadily begins to raise. "There is the possibility that you're deriving some sort of entertainment from all this, like the predator of the night you are. Waiting for the exact moment to strike, when my guard is at its lowest. Perhaps you recognized that my energy is low to begin with, and that I'm fairly exhausted with all these foolish people demanding my time, when I could be negotiating with the Royal Court or researching how to solve this wonderful deterioration problem our Lord Father is having or  _literally anything else_ ," he takes a deep breath, returning to his serene posture, before continuing. "And you've decided to wait things out before killing me, now that it looks like I'm beginning to trust you, just to make things that much sweeter for yourself. Which, if this is the case, now would be the perfect time, don’t you agree?"

Ritsu shrugs. "Maaaaybe. Maybe not."

"Or," he pauses, perhaps for dramatic effect. "I could be wrong about all that, and you're simply here because you have a favor to ask."

"I'm glad you remembered," his tea is now a little too cool, nearing room temperature, so he decides to down the remainder in one sip. It's more bitter than he expected, at the bottom of the cup. "As fun as it would be to murder you,  _unfortunately_  that's not what I'm here for."

"Oh?" Tenshouin pouts, folding his hands and resting them on the table, cocking his head to the side in a way that should have been innocent, were they not discussing assassination. "That is quite unfortunate. It would have made a great opportunity for you—I'm sure that the Faithful would have been very pleased. A chance to prove yourself as the future Lord of Sakuma family, now that—"

"Yes, well, let's just say I'm not very interested in that," Ritsu says briskly, before letting out a deep sigh. "Look, Tenshouin. All I want you to do is get me into Zofia. That's it. Okay?"

Once again, the High Priest looks a bit more disappointed than he should. "Really? Are you sure that's it? You know, when I promised that I owed you a favor, I was expecting something more…" he makes some vague waving gesture with his left hand. Ritsu has no idea what it's supposed to mean. "Exciting? Grandiose? Diabolical? Some sort of inside plan that only  _I_  could aid you with? I suppose the price of my life isn't worth all that much to you, Ritsu, if that's the best you could come up with."

Irritation starts to flood him, but the High Priest isn't done. "Well, if that's what you truly want, then I do not have any reason to refuse. The Lordling of the Sakumas, fleeing the country in secret… how mystifying."

He has no plans on succumbing to the High Priest's needling. Or no one else's, for that matter. "I didn’t realize our deal was contingent on me telling you my life story."

Tenshouin grins at him, in a way that makes Ritsu consider actually murdering him. "Would it not be sufficient for you to simply live here, in Western Rigel? As far as I am aware, your family does not have strong ties on this side of the country. Are you really that paranoid someone will recognize you around here? Or, perhaps you did something that would necessitate fleeing Rigel entirely…"

"Well, if that little scene out there was any indication, I think my fears are warranted," Ritsu smirks, crossing his arms. "To be honest, I'm kiiiinda shocked that the Faithful are all the way out here, stealing people's souls. Nice call on not telling that man that his daughter's a witch now, by the way. Really kind of you. I'm sure it'll be a great surprise for him and the rest of his village once she wakes up."

"I spoke nothing but the truth to him."

"We call that 'lying by omission', Tenshouin."

"And you think the masses would be satisfied with that knowledge? That there are people who are willing to sacrifice others' souls to our Lord Father, in exchange for power? What a plague of fear it would cause; people would lose trust in their friends, their neighbors, the Church. I am doing them a favor, Ritsu—I should not have revealed as much as I did, in the first place." His tone remains even.

"Things are only about to get worse, and you know it," Ritsu frowns. "And what do you plan on doing, once the Faithful have established themselves here? Rigel isn’t going to stay the same forever."

Tenshouin's smile is tight, his eyes narrowed. "Well, whatever plans I have are useless for you to hear, considering that you're not going to be around long enough to see their fruition. Or take part in them, for that matter," there is an offer, buried deep within his words, but it is left unspoken. "Don't concern yourself if you have no intentions of getting involved."

" _I am doing my part_ ," Ritsu says lowly. "I am removing myself from the situation. I can’t imagine you'd rather have one of the strongest arcanists in Rigel still working with the Faithful."

"Of course not. But—" Tenshouin cuts himself off, exhaling audibly through his nose, and then stands. "Make no mistake. I made you a deal, and I am not going back on my word. You will be in Zofia in a week, no one the wiser, if that is what you want from me. I just believe that you would do better to stay here, rather than escape the country entirely."

He really just wants to end the conversation here, before things swerve into territory he doesn't want to tread. "I have my reasons, Tenshouin. And I don’t have to give them to you."

"…Alright then. I didn’t realize that you and your brother were so similar. I'm sure you'll have an excellent time in Zofia, you'll fit in wonderfully—I hear they're quite, how should I say it… self-preserving," Tenshouin strides to the door, opening it, and gestures for him to leave. "My guest chambers are in the hall to the left. I'll arrange for one of the head clerics to escort you to the nearest trading caravan to Zofia in the morning," his smile is nothing but cold. "I bid you a good evening, Ritsu. It's rare that I get to speak with someone of your ilk. I truly appreciated your company."

The door locks behind him, with a soft, definitive click. Ritsu doesn’t look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!!!! this fic isn't dead anymore, yay!! thank you so so much for all your patience, i cannot tell you how much i appreciate it! to be honest, there was a part of me that considered giving up this fic entirely, as the scale was just too big for me to handle... but i received some wonderful comments, and they really spurred me to actually plan out more of the backstory/worldbuilding/etc! as such, this interlude serves moreso to establish the setting and/or some of the future elements that will come up later on, rather than actually progressing the plot in a significant way. i hope you enjoyed eichi--he's really fun to write! i'm going to try to update this more regularly in the future. thank you for reading, and feel free to talk to me @harmonyleaf on twit as always! :>

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first time writing fic in a very, very long time, and is by far the strongest muse I've ever had. I'm a huge YuzuruP and TsukasaP, and consider myself a knightsP as well. I love shumika a whole lot, though (although my heart belongs to chiakana, to be honest) and I've been going crazy over this au for the past month or so! I am currently a busy college student, so no promises as to when I can update, unfortunately. I do have the majority of the next chapter written, though, so that should be up sometime soon! After that, the real story starts, so I hope you stick around! Criticism is absolutely welcome! I am more of an essayist than a creative writer, so any suggestions are greatly appreciated. Feel free to leave a comment or talk to me on twitter @harmonyleaf!


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